


Come back when you can

by Anaile20GH



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaile20GH/pseuds/Anaile20GH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another AU. First long fic in english, and you're reading this because anonlytree is my beta, editor and accomplice... otherwise NOPE! :P<br/>Ok, so this is based in real events of someone's life... adapted for this fandom. ferlily1987 knows what I'm talking about... and this is for fraülein.</p>
<p>The title of this fic came from this song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WU58901vqwk</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some day you’ll realize that I was your best…

~.~

 _“I wanna live life, never be cruel,_ __  
I wanna live life, be good to you.  
I wanna fly, never come down,  
And live my life,”

~.~

 

Steven finds himself in a place that feels strangely foreign after four years beneath a bright, searing sun, surrounded by warm winds and cheerful mates who were always in a good mood despite the sleep deprivation and the endless hours of watching the black stream of oil gushing from the ground. This place of neverending grey skies and the chilly gusts, the sun hidden between the clouds, the stoic faces and the weird sense of humour of his fellow countrymen… Steven has the feeling that he doesn't belong here anymore. He feels out of place in London now and he is almost regretting that the Company decided to bring him back.

The strange feeling lasts until he stops in front of _this place_. The traitorous part of his mind has guided his feet to the Gallery almost oblivious to the rational bit of his brain, such as it is. Suddenly, his heart is gripped in a warm panic; a sweet ache is starting to flood his chest. He’s done his best to block all the memories (and failed pathetically) because his only regret when he decided to take a plane in order to make his dreams and plans a reality was failing to agree on being a part of _his_ plans. The thing is… Steven is a calculating man. He’s always known what he wanted to be and he always plans the next step ahead, sometimes three or four steps at a time.  

A shy, quiet teenager Steven focused on his studies and knew all along how hard he needed to work to get to a good University. He felt like a disappointment to his father at times because choosing the smart thing to do meant giving up his Dad's dream of seeing his son in the glamorous world of professional football. Steven loved playing the game and was good at it, but he was not drawn towards everything else that came with it.

He'd stood up to his father and stoically declared: "Dad, I want to be a mechanical engineer." That had gone down about as well as he'd expected with the old man almost screaming in horror: 

\- “You want to fix cars for the rest of yer life?!?”

With an exasperated sigh, but holding back laughter, Steven went through the power point presentation of “What Engineers Do” and fortunately, his father managed to come around to the idea fairly easily, despite his dream of his son as the city's hero. 

So, in order to follow that, Steven assured his grades in high values to make his admission to a good University easier. And he did it so good. The day when _the_ letter from the UCL of London landed in his mailbox had been the happiest day of Steven’s life, but getting in was only half the battle. He’d always known he’d have to keep working just as hard to take his studies very seriously and not let anything be a distraction… The plan was pretty clear on that and the next step was to work in a fucking massive multinational oil corporation, jet setting around the world. His major plan, his major goal… had shrunk Steven’s map of the world to the Americas (mostly the Southern one) with bits of Africa thrown in between.

He’s retracing the steps of this mental exercise right now, here in London, after all this time. London was his home, once he’d learned to call it home, and he had spent here (and this is the first time Steven will reluctantly admit it) the better years of his life. The place in which he chose to make his dreams come true, the city that eventually rewarded his sacrifice and set him on the path of his career, the place that (and now that sweet ache burrows deeper into him, unearthing carefully forgotten needs) gave him the joy of being someone’s best… well… whatever.

_-“Some day you’ll realize that I was your best…”_

_He never heard the next words. Xabi was suddenly out of them, staring right through the wall and then next to Steven’s eyes, a sad smile sprayed on his face, his eyes bright with tears_

_-“I always knew that you’d leave one day. Not like I ever had the right to think that you were going to stay here with me. But… I had this feeling… this_ stupid _hope that you chose to be with me and I let you take everything. I gave you everything and now…”_

Steven’s feet are planted in the floor, bracing himself. The memories, those that he doesn’t need right now, are coming back. He buried them, drowned them in aguardiente in lonely nights back in Morichal and Cartagena, he’s even tried the most cliché ritual killing of them all: writing them down and burning them. He’s tried hard to forget his face, the hurt in his eyes. That morning, in their apartment was the last time Steven saw Xabi before he left. Well, actually Xabi left him. He couldn’t stand the idea of goodbyes in the airport because a) that would have been bloody corny and ridiculous and b) it was a painful thing to live through at that time… or at any time.

Another memory flashes in Steven’s mind now. A happy one, when both of them were filled with dreams and exciting plans. It feels like a lot longer than nine years earlier ago, when Xabi dragged him here, to this same gallery, against his will if he were to be honest. Steven had no chance of ever saying No to Xabi at the time, not when he was so close to his ear and whispering in that deep, accented voice _“One day you’ll see my pictures here, you know?”_ Steven couldn’t help but smile warmly and whisper back _“Keep dreaming, Alonso…” “Oh, you’ll see, Esteban Jorge. You’ll see…”_

Steven is standing in front of the Gallery. He doesn’t want to go in, doesn’t need to either. There’s a picture that’s perfectly visible from the outside; a black and white picture of an old man with his walking stick. He’s wearing a coat and a hat. He’s sitting on a bench, resting his hands on his cane, staring ahead. Rusty, autumn leaves are floating in and out of the frame. You can almost feel October wind blowing through the glass. It’s… beautiful. Steven takes in every single detail of every inch of the photo, but he keeps coming back to the old man’s stare. He looks like he’s remembering something in that very moment, something he longs for so much. Steven can’t take his eyes off the picture. He goes over and over the image until his eyes are resting wide open on the name of the photographer…

_Nostalgia en el Otoño_

_By Xabier Alonso Olano_

Steven lets himself into the Gallery to have a look around. There are only two other visitors and a young lady sitting behind a desk near to the door. Steven presumes she’s the guide. The woman smiles kindly when she notices Steven’s presence, gets up and walks towards him.

-“Good afternoon Sir, my name’s Diana. Welcome to Gallery Road. We’re exhibiting the photos of the _Nostalgia_ series from Xabier Alonso Olano. He’s a Basque photographer from Spain. If you want to know more about the pictures there’s a brief description down in the corner of it. If you want a guide tour-”

-“No, thank you, that’s very kind, but… I’d rather just have a look around. Thanks anyway.”

The young lady gives Steven another smile, returning to her desk while Steven starts to walk around the Gallery. Most of the pictures are black and white, except some things that Xabi preferred leave in colour for some reason. There’s one of a garden of roses and some of them are red, the man in a bicycle and only his clothes are in colour; there’s one of Playa de la Concha in the sunset and the sun and the buildings are the only patches of colour. Steven recognizes the beach from spending a couple of summers there with Xabi. He used to love it there, especially when they would go to the mountains, walk to the top and spend a while just contemplating the view. Xabi would be like a mad man constantly taking pictures and Steven just standing there, breathing the air, letting the sun rays kiss his skin gently.

Now that he’s walking past each picture in the exhibit, it’s all too easy for Steven to imagine Xabi’s detailed explanation behind every camera angle. He’s heard it more than once; why it was important to catch the exact moment when that little girl picked up the ball from the floor, how the sun rays illuminated her pigtails, how her face brightened when she was laughing… He liked listening to Xabi’s voice bringing the stories behind those pictures to life. He could still hear it in his head now: “ _See? When you’re just watching La Concha from the top of the mountain, you can get those shades of blue from the water. Especially when the weather is this generous and it’s letting us have this amazing gift. If you’re lucky enough to have a camera with you, you_ need _to capture those moments forever”._

In his four years of travelling, Steven’s been rewarded with amazing sights, but he’s never bothered to take a camera with him. He has his memories though. His mental pictures and the good luck to be there in the first place, to experience Río Orinoco in all it greatness; the view from the Cristo de Corcovado or the sunset in the Colonial city of Cartagena de Indias; the landscape around Bariloche that weekend and the monkeys in the Peruvian jungle. Steven feels so lucky to have those memories and he’s convinced that leaving London when he did was the best decision at the time. And yet here he is carrying an odd kind of anxiety, curiosity, perhaps anger… a little bit. Yes, he chose to get on that plane and land at the former Houston International Airport, but he didn’t want to choose to cut any sort of communication with Xabi. After almost six years together, he couldn’t be oblivious to Xabi’s life and he did not expect that Xabi would be quite so radical about it. He did not expect such harsh words, but in the end he understood where they came from. Not that it’d hurt less. 

_“Steven…_

_FUCK OFF!!!! YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE SO LEAVE ALREADY_

_STOP BEING A SELFISH BASTARD AND UNDERSTAND THAT I DON’T WANT ANY OF THIS CRAP_

_WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU ARE???????????? STOP WRITING ME AND TRYING TO BE FRIENDLY_

_FUCK YOU!!!!_

_GOOD BYE!!!”_

Maybe he was drunk when he wrote those words. Steven preferred to believe that anyway. He’d gotten so drunk at that point he inexplicably ended up in a brothel in Río. When he recovered his senses, he decided to never trust his work buddies ever again and move on. He’s not so sure now anymore that he ever succeeded. He tried. Well, as much as a man in his line of work can; not like it’s easy to maintain a relationship while living in hotel after hotel and camp after camp. He has… friends, for lack of a better word, or rather because the buddies in fuckbuddies doesn’t ring true, but nothing that would demand commitment or much conversation. And he sometimes misses that. He sometimes misses what he had with Xabi. Well, OK, he misses Xabi all the time.

It’s late and Steven must return to his office. His lunch break ended long ago and it looks like it’s going to start raining anytime. He’s near the exit when the young lady walks towards Steven and hands him a brochure. “Thanks for coming by. If you want to meet the artist, he’s going to be here tonight since it’s the last day of the exhibition.”

Steven is staring the woman, slowly blinking, suddenly out of words

-“He… he’s going to be here… tonight? Xabier Alonso?” 

The woman looks slightly bewildered with the sudden change of demeanour in Steven.

-“Um, yes. Do you know him?”

-“Well, um,  kind of…”

He can’t admit that he knows the man, really. 

-“Uh, anyway, it looks like a great opportunity to talk to him about his work. You look very interested in those photographs and he’ll be more than delighted to listen to his audience. He’s a very friendly person…”

-“They’re… beautiful to be honest, but I don’t think I have the time to come tonight. I’ll think about it though.”

-“The schedule’s in the brochure. We hope that you can make time and come, you’re very welcome.”

-“Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

-“Good afternoon Sir, nice to have you here.”

 

The rain is starting to pour and Steven forgot his umbrella. He’s walking fast trying to grab a taxi and once he finally manages to climb into one a block or so away. He gives the driver the address to his office in a disembodied voice while his mind is trying to process the fact that he can see Xabi again. Steven doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge now.


	2. The one with memories...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagger loves muffins... and steal books.

~.~

_“I been working on my backwards walk_

_There's nowhere else for me to go_

_Except back to you just one last time_

_Say yes before I change my mind”_

~.~

**10 years earlier…**

_Steven has been staring at his notebook for the past 45 minutes feeling completely useless._

_“On a distant planet the gravity constant is g=4 m/s2. Alien “X” drops a rock from 150 m above the ground. Alien “Z”, from 60 m above ground, throws a rock upward, with initial velocity 6 m/s._

_Derive formulas for the heights, hx(t) and hz(t) of the two rocks._

_When will each rock hit the ground?_

_Whose rock hits the ground first?_

_At what time, if any, will the two rocks have the same height?_

_When will alien Z’s rock have zero speed?_

_Note that h”x(t) = h”z(t) = -g”_

_“Oh, come on! The fucking answer is 0… duh, aliens don't exist!!!” Steven is shamelessly shouting at the notebook. Really, fucking aliens aren’t real and applied maths is going to drive him insane little by little. The green area of the campus is full of students and like him probably studying, only more quietly. Curious stares are directed towards him along with the occasional glare. He doesn’t give a shit to be honest; he just thinks that applied maths is impossible and he’s feeling so frustrated and this is one of those moments that Steven wants to give it all up and yell to the world FUCK OFF!... He tries one more time, reads the problem again and starts to scribble formulas and numbers and suddenly the world makes some sense because he’s actually seeing the answer, after all these hours and the side-eye he’d got from the library lady earlier. He’s so immersed in the problem that he doesn’t notice that someone’s closing in on him. When Steven looks up he sees a tall boy with a Mohawk and crazy tattoos covering his arms._

_-“Hey, that’s a weird calculator mate. How do you use that thing?”_

_-“What…?”_

_-“I said that’s a weird calculator. How do you use it?”_

_-“Why do you want to…”_

_Steven doesn’t even finish the sentence because the weird boy grabs his bag and starts to run through the campus. He reacts almost instantly and starts to chase the boy, shouting YOU FUCKER… GIVE MY BAG BACK! The thief is quick but Steven’s quicker and a couple of minutes into his pursuit, Steven is tackling the boy until both of them are rolling on the ground and Steven starts punching the boy in the ribs._

_-“Stop, don’t hit me!”_

_-“Son of a bitch…give me my bag!”-_

_-“XABIIII! THE FUCK ARE YOU?”_

_-“Shut the fuck up and hand me my fucking bag already!”_

_Another boy is running towards them and he’s laughing. When he’s close to them, he’s standing over the tableau of Steven trapping the tattooed guy, one hand clutching his wrists behind his back and the other pushing his head to the ground. The boy’s smile falters and with some concern in his voice he says:_

_-“Fuck, Dan, I’m so sorry…You can let him go, he’s not a robber.”_

_-“The fuck I’m not. You’re crazy, let me go!”_

_-“Oh, I’m crazy? You’re stealing my books! Who steals books?”_

_-“He’s not. I’m sorry, this was an experiment, really. Please let him go so we can explain it to you…”_

_Steven is now finally looking at the new guy. He looks young and he has an accented voice, he’s probably in his 20s and has a big camera in his hands, a professional one. Steven releases the tattooed guy from his grip and he’s standing up, taking his bag from the floor and helping his maybe sort of book thief get back on his feet._

_-“Fuck, you’re fast. And heavy. You a sprinter or something?”_

_-“Who the fuck are you and why did you take my bag?”_

_-“Time to explain your brilliant idea, Alonso. Fucking hell, I think he cracked my rib… hurts like a bitch.”_

_-“Sorry, Dan. Hi, I’m Xabier Alonso… Xabi, and this is Daniel Agger.”_

_Steven hesitates before he takes Xabi’s outstretched hand. When he does, Xabi looks expectantly, waiting for at least a name._

_-“Steven Gerrard. Now, can you tell me why he took my bag?”_

_-“We’re art students working on an assignment for my Photography class. The theme is capturing movement and I thought that a chase was a pretty cool idea for it. Dan here is such a good friend and he accepted to play the bait.”_

_-“You were taking pictures while we were running?”_

_-“Next time, crazy Basque, you’re the guinea pig, OK?”_

_-“Relax, Dan. It’ll be worth it, you’ll see.”_

_-“No shit. For you it will.”_

_-“Um, Dan? No offense but you look the part a lot more than he would, you know?” Steven says a little too honestly, but it can’t be helped really. The apparently Basque art student just has this “nice guy” look about him; the last thing you’d think from looking at him would be that this is a person who’d steal something from you. From anybody. Xabi’s grinning and Steven is smiling back at him while Dan just glares at them in annoyance._

_-“Well, you know what? Serial killers don’t look like psychopaths, they look like the quiet neighbour who you see walking his dog while he has a body in the cellar.”_

_Xabi stares blankly at Daniel and rolls his eyes out before turning his attention back to Steven again and with a voice that is so warm and strongly accented says:_

_-“I think I owe you an apology anyway, I realize this is… well.... Can we make it up to you with a coffee or something? Perhaps I can explain in more detail why you were mobbed.”_

_Steven has no idea what it is about this guy, but he can’t help but feel at ease around him. He accepts the invitation almost instantly and they’re walking back to the desk where Steven had been studying before the attack, to gather his other belongings._

_Daniel is walking ahead leading them to the cafeteria demanding his just reward._

_-“You need to buy me some muffins for doing this crazy shit for you.”_

_-“I’ll buy you a dozen, Daniel, get over it. You’re alive and in one piece, quit moaning.” Not that he expects anything of the sort, so he switches his attention to Steven instead. “Why you were shouting at your notebook earlier?” Xabi asks._

_-“How long have you been stalking me?”_

_There’s a little pause before the Spaniard’s voice is heard again._

_-“Long enough to decide that you were going to be the perfect victim,” Xabi replies with sort teasing and Steven is staring at him while Xabi stares right back, smirking._

_-“I demand some dessert too, just so you know. You distracted me from my studies.”_

_-“That’s what you were doing? Studying?”_

_-“Yeah, that’s what I was doing.”_

_-“Is that some new and advanced method, shouting at your books?”_

_-“I was trying to concentrate. Its helps. Sometimes…”_

_Xabi's laugh is infectious. He slips the tip of his tongue between his teeth, which makes him look about 8 years old, and Steven can’t get his eyes off of him. They’re in the cafeteria and while Daniel is searching for the perfect muffin, Xabi is asking Steven what dessert is going to be his olive branch for complete forgiveness._

_-“Apple pie with Vanilla ice cream…the apple pie heated, please,” Steven gives the order to the cafeteria lady and waits for Xabi and Daniel to do the same._

_-“Four chocolate chips muffins and one latte,” Daniel says, ignoring Xabi’s confused eyebrow risen at him. He rolls his eyes out and urges him to give his order, he’s hungry and would like his sugar right the fuck NOW._

_-“A cappuccino, please.”_

_-“Is that all?” Steven asks while Daniel is looking around for a free table._

_-“I’m not a fan of desserts to be honest.”_

_-“But that’s the best part of any meal, mate,” Steven says with an almost shocked expression._

_-“Well, not for me.”_

_The cafeteria lady hands them their trays laden with desserts and coffees and Xabi goes to the cashier to pay the bill. Steven waits for him and picks up his tray. While they’re walking through the busy hall towards Daniel’s table, Steven feels compelled to find out what’s behind Xabi’s unusual contempt for desserts._

_-“So what is it then?”_

_-“So what is it what?”-_

_-“Your favourite part of a meal.”_

_Xabi smiles and again, the teasing in his voice when he’s answering, comes naturally._

_-“There’s a practical way that you can found that out.” Steven stops in his tracks, measuring every single word that just came out of Xabi’s mouth, oblivious to the fact that he’s standing dumbly in the middle of the cafeteria looking like a deer in headlights, jaw heading towards the floor. Daniel wakes him up by whistling and waving his arms in front of his dumbfounded face._

_-“What part of I’m hungry does not pass through your thick skull?”_

_Daniel attacks a muffin as soon as they sit down, practically devouring it in two bites. Xabi is sipping his coffee watching Steven stab a piece of his pie with the fork, the ice cream melting in to the heat of it. The fork travelled to Steven’s open mouth taking a sweet bite into it, his eyes not leaving the holding gaze of the young Spaniard. He looks so confident, so sure of himself. Steven is feeling a little intimidated now, his cheeks flushing and he has this sudden urge to break the quietness in their table. Before he attempts to say something, Xabi is speaking again._

_-“Do you ever go around to the North Wing?”_

_-“Not really.”_

_-“You should come next week. We are exhibiting our assignments, I think it’ll be cool if you can come around and see our works.”_

_-“I bet he doesn't know where our campus is. Science and engineering students thinks we're lazy communists who waste everyone’s time,” Daniel says with a snort, anticipating Xabi’s disapproving  look._

_-“What? You know I’m right.”_

_-“No, you’re not. Keep stuffing your mouth, it’s best for everyone if it’s busy with carbohydrates.”_

_-“I’m out of muffins now, you promised me a dozen.”_

_-“You really want more? You ate four already.”_

_-“This body needs gasolina bebé and you promised.”_

_Steven laughs at Daniel’s attempt at Spanish while Xabi shoves some pounds in Dan’s grubby hands and sends him to buy his goddamn muffins._

_-“He’s fun,” Steven says, finishing his pie._

_-“Yeah, he’s not bad. So, can you come then? To the exhibition?”_

_-Steven looks straight at Xabi, still smiling._

_-“I’ll try to go.”_

_-“Good. You know where north wing is… right?”_

_-“Yes… to the North.”_

_Xabi gives him an incredulous look and Steven cracks up at his own lame joke._

_-“Fairly obvious, isn’t it?”_

_The Spaniard fakes nuisance while Steven is still laughing._

_-“Sorry. I’d love to go, thanks for inviting me.”_

_-“You’re welcome.”_

_Xabi winks and Steven is blushing again. Xabi decides that he likes that shade of red in Steven’s cheeks and Steven concludes that it’s been a really long time since a guy’s made him blush and he also concludes that he likes Xabi. And… that’s not supposed to happen because he has too much on his plate as it is with the studies and all that, but the little time he’s spent with this good looking, lovely Spaniard is really not enough. So, he decides to go with the flow. Can’t lead to anything but good things, judging by the lopsided smile in Xabi’s lips._

  

~.~

_Could I be, was I there?_  
 _It felt so crystal in the air_  
 _I still want to drown, whenever you leave_  
 _Please teach me gently, how to breathe_

~.~

 

It’s 8:30 PM and Steven is in his flat (well, the Company’s flat) in his pyjamas and a beer in his hand. On the telly, Santino Corleone is punching his brother in law with the trash can lid. Steven takes his eyes off the action for a moment to stare at the brochure laying on top of the coffee table, then forces himself to go back to his favourite movie. And he can’t be arsed to pay any attention to it, for fucks sakes. The Godfather’s on the telly and he’s not riveted by it like on all previous 123 evenings he’s spent with the Corleones. He takes the goddamn paper in his hands and reads (again).

**Xabier Alonso is going to make a special appearance on the last day of his exhibition. You’re invited to visit our Gallery on Tuesday, the 19th for a meet and greet with the artist…**

It’s 8:45 PM and Michael Corleone is getting married to Apolonia in Italy. Steven checks his wrist watch again and drinks his beer in one go.  He actually doesn’t know what to do. He wants to see Xabi but he thinks that’s not the brightest idea. Four years of absence from Xabi’s life and suddenly he’s going to be there like what?... And expecting what? Xabi really wasn’t very polite the last time they’d had any sort of communication, and no matter how well he knows Xabi inside and out, he isn’t sure what to expect of himself, how he’s going to react if Xabi sees him in the gallery. Still, he has this strange feeling of hope that Xabi is not going to freak out, or maybe it’s just a fool’s delusion.

9:00 PM… Apolonia is dead and Steven gives up. In five minutes Steven is well dressed, breathing deep, raking his fingers through his hair, turning the telly off and closing the flat door behind him.

9:20 pm…the gallery is packed. It’s pouring outside and while Steven gives his coat to a smiling usher, he’s scanning the place… looking. There are a lot of youngers, students perhaps, watching and discussing every picture. There are some well-dressed men and women holding champagne cups in their hands and narrowing eyes, whispering their reviews to one another. A waiter offers him a drink but he declines, he doesn’t need alcohol right now. Steven starts walking around, listening to the chattering of the crowd mingling with the muted tones of a saxophone and a piano bathing the exhibition hall through the sound system.

Steven ends up inevitably in front of his favourite picture in the collection, the old man sitting on his bench and something catches his attention. There’s a burst of laughter in the corner opposites to him and when the sound softens, he sees Xabi talking amiably with a small group of hipsters surrounding him like he’s also on display. And fuck… _fuck_ … Steven’s mouth is slightly open; his eyes go wide when he gets a good look at Xabi. He looks amazing, there’s no other word to describe him. He has a beard, making him look distinguished and refined, not the Xabi he was used to. He has a black jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a white t-shirt and jeans, one hand in his pocket while the other one’s holding a gin and tonic. He’s smiling, and Steven smiles almost unconsciously, he loves Xabi's smile. He remembers that in the past, when Xabi wanted something from him, all he had to do was smile and that was it, he was that easy.  Steven feels an invisible wave slamming into his chest, he can’t move from his spot. His gaze is glued to Xabi, taking in every detail. The woman to Xabi’s left starts pointing to a picture somewhere behind Steven and as soon as Xabi starts following her gaze, his audience loses him completely. Xabi looks like a man for whom the world stopped spinning and he keeps staring blankly long after Steven gives him a small wave and a smile, fretful over Xabi’s initial lack of reaction.

Seconds that seem a lifetime pass by until Xabi gives him his favourite smile, the lopsided one, the one that promises everything. The air leaves Steven’s chest in one deep exhale, and Xabi recovers his senses again, excusing himself from his minions and heading steadily towards the man who’d made Xabi promise to himself that when this moment would come… _he’d know exactly what he’d want – to stay with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters probably will take a little while. Not too much though...I promise it
> 
> The first fragment is part of this song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26uNj5VsFL4
> 
> The second one is part of this... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3EBzperd_c


	3. It's been a while...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven speaks spanish (jhakajhdjkahdjkhdhahdakjhdkjhadhaja) ahem... translations at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Oh and other thing... sorry for the "little while"... I'll try to publish a little faster. At least, this story has an end so...

~.~

_“You walk around in other towns_

_I've seen you out just hanging around_

_It's what you chose and I suppose_

_You'll need me one day_

_Need me one day”  
_ ~.~

  
-“Hello, Steven.”  
  
-“Would you like a drink, Sir?”- A waiter asks, but Steven can’t turn to give a simple answer to the poor guy… he can’t even say a bloody  _Hello_ back to Xabi _…_ he’s not functioning.   
  
He’s just staring at the man who still has the ability to fuck with his heartbeat with nothing but his eyes, to make him just want to lay in the heat of his warm body in a cool winter morning, to lose himself just listening to his voice. He’s missed him so much and he didn’t have a clue just how much until this very instant. Xabi hands over his empty glass to the waiter and Steven finally remembers how to speak enough to say  _No… thank you_ before he returns his attention to Xabi.  
  
-“Hola Xabier, ¿cómo has estado?”  
  
Steven’s answer is in perfect Spanish… his pronunciation, Xabi can tell, is a product of years of practice. He has a funny accent but fluid, with a slight influence of South American Spanish in it, especially from the continent’s Southern side. A surprised and impressed Xabi smirks and keeps the Spanish to see how far Steven can go with it.   
  
-“Pues yo muy bien, realmente es una sorpresa verte por aquí. Casi que no me lo creo que estés parado en frente de mí”  
  
It makes Steven laugh, he really can’t believe that they’re in the same room either.  
  
-“Creeme, no más sorprendido que yo. Debiste ver mi cara esta tarde cuando vine aquí y vi tus fotografías, fue una agradable sorpresa ver que lo lograste.”  
  
The expression on Xabi’s face changes, his eyes shaded just enough to hide what’s really behind them, his soft smile is barely there, it’s just…   
  
-“Siempre supe que lo ibas a lograr.”  
  
-“So, you remember it?!?”  
  
-“Of course, you used to drag me here all the time, it was impossible not to remember it.”  
  
-“Y ahora hablas español.”  
  
-“Aparentemente estaba condenado a terminar hablándolo, después de 10 años escuchándolo las probabilidades eran muy altas. Siempre me gustó el español… That probably made the learning process easier for me, I guess,” Steven says sheepishly. The way that Xabi’s looking him now makes him feel jittery and he can’t decide if it’s in a good way or not.   
  
-“It’s good to listen to you in Spanish, even with the funny accent. Hard to tell if it’s Argentinian or Caribbean, but oh well… I like it anyway.”  
  
Steven’s cheeks are flushed and the corners of his eyes crinkle in response to Xabi complimenting what has become his second language.   
  
-“I should be the one congratulating you, Xabier. This is… it’s really beautiful work.”  
  
-“Thank you, I’m very happy about it. The reviews have been kind and people actually want to buy some of the pieces. So, I guess we can put it down as a success.”  
  
Steven can’t help but feel proud about Xabi, honestly. He always believed in his talent, his passion, and knows (or hopes he knows) better than anyone that Xabi is a very passionate man who’s always given it his all and poured his heart into every single thing he does.   
  
Daniel had always said, with the obligatory cheeky smirk, that deep down Steven and Xabi were the same person under all those differences and opposing world views; always faithful to their morals, to the standards they held themselves to, to their expectations of the future. Nothing could reveal better just how similar they were than those differences that would come up whenever they’d get into one of their discussions about… well… everything because at the end of the day two equally stubborn men who loved each other very much were still two equally stubborn men.  
It was generally Steven who could always make Xabi lose his cool; he’d find fifteen different ways to call him naïve and a dreamer while Xabi spat back that he was a freaking cold bastard with a heart of stone. Ultimately, they’d both fallen for the other’s commitment to what they believed in, something Xabi came to understand even though it had been the doom of their relationship.  Steven’s grand plans for his future career were hardly a secret. Xabi’d always known that one day Steven would leave and it was year by year a permanent cloud hanging over Xabi somewhere in the distance until it got bigger and bigger the closer Steven got to graduation. When Steven got his degree and his first job in London, Xabi had expected news of an impending move to Dubai or Texas and what he’d gotten instead lulled him into a false sense of security which Xabi bought into because he needed the promise of happiness and stability to be true. He’d wanted it so much.   
  
-“When did you get back?” Xabi asks now, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, unsure of whether he’s not believing Steven isn’t just visiting or in for some conference because he wants it to be true.   
  
-“Three weeks ago to London. I spent some time with the family in Liverpool until I got called back to the base, so… here I am.”  
  
-“And all this time you were in South America?”  
  
-“Mostly, yeah. Flew to Africa and the Emirates a couple of times, but it was just a few weeks of training and such. The job was in the Americas. They have the world’s biggest oil reserves, so that’s where the gold is.”  
  
- “Sounds great. I guess you’ve made it to where you wanted to be. I remember how you used to get when you talked about getting to all those places, you couldn’t wait to get your hands all greasy with that slime. Got you all excited…”   
  
Steven chuckles, unable to deny it. He still feels the rush of oil guzzling from under the crust echoing in his veins and it’s one of the greatest experiences he could never describe to anyone else. Xabi would never understand it, but then again oil for him had always been an evil black stain on nature and his future, although it had its uses. Aside from the obvious, it was more than once a perfect pretext to start a fight in which he’d get Steven nice and riled up until he’d be left defenceless and fuming, perfect to pounce on. Beyond the incredible make up sex though, Xabi always felt a pang of jealousy when his boyfriend talked so passionately about his job, like his ego couldn’t stand to be cast aside on the list of Steven’s greatest achievements. Not that Xabi would ever admit to such immaturity.   
  
-“I did get to get all soaked and muddy head to toe a few times. Fun times.”  
  
-“You were probably high on all the adrenaline too; no te corriste la primera vez?” - Steven grins. He’ll never stop finding Xabi’s sardonic side amusing.   
  
-“Almost. Got to keep some self-control, getting a boner in front of a bunch of lads on an oil field is not exactly how you want to start your collaboration with them. Wouldn’t want to be too gay.”  
  
Steven can’t ignore the ease with which he’s slipping back into his old comfort zone with Xabi. Jokes about boners wasn’t exactly how he’d expected tonight to go. He knew Xabi would be at the very least polite to him, but ever since Xabi had laid eyes on Steven then proceeded to corner him in the quiet corner of the gallery, Steven feels as if the last four years of his life have been sucked into a vacuum. He realizes suddenly that in all this time he’s known nothing about Xabi and it stings. He’s not in any rush to leave Xabi’s good sides where he finds himself unexpectedly, but it’s something he needs to get out of his system either way. Once he gets past his hesitation though, the words won’t stop rushing out of his mouth.   
  
-“Xabi, I know that maybe I’m being a little… well… Remember that email you sent me? I never… I didn’t mean it to end like that. All I was trying was to not lose… I didn’t want to be pushed away from your life completely.”  
  
The air changes around them. Xabi shifts his body weight from one leg to the other and shoves his hands in his pockets, avoiding Steven’s eyes.  His gaze lingers for a while in the opposite corner of the gallery before he quietly and gradually turns to look at Steven starting with his lips and making his way to his very blue eyes.   
  
-“¿Cuál es tu favorita?”   
  
-“What…”   
  
- “What is your favorite photo?”  
  
 _OK, so… no talking about it._  
  
Steven decides there’s no point to push his luck. He can play along, no problem… He points to the portrait of the old man hanging in front of them.   
  
-“Good choice. This one’s mine,” - Xabi smiles, indicating a picture on the opposite wall where La Concha beach is bathed in sunset.  
-“I took it the last time we travelled to Donostia, remember?”  
A soft smile appears on Steven’s face.   
  
-“It rained all day and you were freaked out about your beloved camera so you made me run downhill skipping on rocky terrain.”  
  
-“I didn’t expect you to trip over your own feet and roll in the mud like that. Quite a sight that…”  
  
-“I can’t believe you still have the gall to make fun of me after you dragged me there in the first place.”  
  
-“It’s not something you forget,” - Xabi says - “Or at least I haven’t. It was… fun, even you could have got hurt and worse, my camera could have got hurt.”  
  
-“Har har,” - Steven eyerolls good-naturedly.   
  
-“That picture always reminds me how beautiful La Concha is no matter how many dark clouds are over it, the sun always finds it in all its glory eventually.”   
  
Steven clears his throat and blinks away the sting in his eyes then asks with a nod to the picture above their heads.  
  
-“What about this one?”  
  
-“That was the week before I got back to London. I was just… wasting time walking along El Retiro with my camera, I wasn’t even thinking of anything in particular. And then I saw him sitting on that bench next to his memories… The picture took itself practically. I was looking at it on my laptop that night and I just knew I’d go back to London. I lived in Madrid for a year and a half…”  
  
-“I know, Daniel told me.”  
  
-“Really?”  
  
-“He wasn’t gossiping, I just… asked every now and then when we talked.”  
  
-“That bastard was your informant?”  
  
A grin tugs at Xabi’s lips as Steven admits to it with a nod and he’s about to say something when a young man butts in, violent blush in his cheeks, informing the artist that his presence is much needed among the masses of visitors.   
  
-“You go ahead, this is your night,” - Steven says.   
  
- “Just… don’t go yet. Have a drink, look around and… wait for me. Please?”  
  
And that’s that. Xabi is walking away from him to the far side of the gallery where he’s greeted by an admiring crowd. Steven’s eyes follow him around until a waiter gets in the way and then Steven decides it’s time to get a drink. They’re not cheap on the champagne here, it tastes heavenly and the soft sound of the saxophone makes for an appropriate appetizer. He moves away from his favorite picture at last, letting all others draw him in.   
  
11:30 PM… It’s still raining. The public started leaving the gallery about half an hour ago, only a few stragglers are left behind. Steven’s waiting by the entrance still relatively safe from the downpour, staring absently into the distance.   
  
-“Peso for your thoughts?”  
  
Steven startles a bit, he has no idea when Xabi turned up by his side.   
  
-“I was just… watching the rain. And thinking I don’t want to get wet. I didn’t bring an umbrella. I forgot I need one, believe it or not.”  
  
-“You’ll get used to it again eventually. We can use mine for now, it’s big enough for both of us.” - Steven steps under the big, red protective canopy and he’s suddenly so close to Xabi that he can feel his warm breath on his cheek as they start to walk into the cool wave of humidity.   
  
-“So… Esteban Jorge, have I told you yet that it’s great to see you again?” - Steven laughs. It’s been a long time since someone’s said his name in that way.   
  
-“Not really, no. You did mention it was a surprise to meet me, but the word great was not mentioned at any point.”   
  
-“Well, it is now.”  
  
- “Really?”  
  
- “Yes.” - Steven stops, his eyes fixed on Xabi.   
  
- “I almost didn’t come at all. To be honest, I expect you to react in a different way.”  
  
-“What way?”  
  
-“I didn’t really expect a warm welcome.” - Xabi lowers his eyes, his breath billowing in the cool air.   
  
-“I was drunk when I wrote that email, Steven.”  
  
-“You did mean it though, otherwise you would have taken it back. And for the record, I don’t blame you at all, it’s just…”  
  
-“It’s just that you know me so well that you knew already it wouldn’t stop you from coming here, you knew it wouldn’t… You know what, that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m glad you’re here now.” - They look at each other for an instant in silence before Steven speaks again.   
  
-“So am I then,” - he says with a smile of relief and peace is permanently settled with a handshake.  
  
-“I have to go, Xabi.”  
  
-“Oh, right. You…”  
  
-“I’ll catch a taxi.”  
  
-“OK. Here, take this,” - Xabi pulls a business card out of his pocket and Steven stares at the minimalist ( _… of course…_ ) phone number in his hand.   
  
-“We can have a drink, catch up. Plenty to talk about, no?”  
  
The little card goes in Steven’s pocket and Steven’s about to go inside the taxi pulling over by their side, but he turns on his heels at the last moment and pulls Xabi into an embrace, his hands landing on the nape of Xabi’s neck and around Xabi’s back out of pure muscle memory. He places a short kiss on his cheek and Xabi doesn’t pull away. He’s just standing under his red umbrella with a soft smile in his features until the taxi disappears around the corner. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (al menos las más importantes :P)
> 
> Hola Xabier, ¿cómo has estado? – Hello Xabier, how you've been?
> 
> Pues yo muy bien, realmente es una sorpresa verte por aquí. Casi que realmente no me lo creo que estés parado en frente de mí – Well, I’m pretty fine, it’s really a surprise to see you around here. I'm almost not believing that you're standing in front of me.
> 
> Creeme, no más sorprendido que yo. Debiste ver mi cara esta tarde cuando vine aquí y vi tus fotografías, fue una agradable sorpresa ver que lo lograste – Believe me, not more surprised than me. You should see my face when I came here and looked your photographs; it was a nice surprise to see that you made it. 
> 
> Y ahora hablas español –And now you speak spanish
> 
> Aparentemente estaba condenado a terminar hablándolo, después de 10 años escuchándolo las probabilidades eran muy altas. Siempre me gustó el español – Apparently I was condemned to finally speaking it after 10 years hearing it, the chances were pretty high. I always loved spanish
> 
> Nah, the translations are not betayed* obviously (*wuuuttttttt.. is that a word honestly??)
> 
> The fragment in the beginning of the chapter is from this song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cU7KoVI1gGY (ajajdljsdjsjlakjdlksajlkajfkljfklajfjasljdljdadljg... I love it)


	4. I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're Vicious and Rotten... :P

~.~

_“I'm sorry to interrupt it's just_

_I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you_

_I don't know if you feel the same as I do  
_

_But we could be together if you wanted to”  
_ ~.~

 

**_10 years earlier…_ **

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: Ey you, wanna grab a beer with The Vicious and Rotten?_

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Not a chance… Got to finish an assignment for Management Principles_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: That sounds deep. And smart. I don’t care. COME ON!!!_

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: …_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: …_

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: It’s Thursday night Xabs. I got to finish this._

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: It’s gig night._

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Martin scares the shit out of me._

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: Nothing to worry about. Just applaud at the end of each song and pretend you like it. That’s what I do._

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Punk is not my thing._

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: Vaya sorpresa._ _Of course not, you’re too vanilla for punk._

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: …_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: You’re too obsessed with the ellipsis mark… Quit playing hard to get. Just come, you need to relax, hombre. Too much studying is going to fry your brains._

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Unlike Dan’s screaming? For the record, I’m no more vanilla than you are, you fucker!_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: Calm down Esteban Jorge_

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Huh?!?_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: …_

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Who’s esteban jorge (I spelled that right… right?)_

_From: Xabi A._

_SMS: That’d be you. In Spanish._

_From: S. Gerrard_

_SMS: Really??_

_Steven’s phone starts ringing and when he answers it, Spanish words are mixed with a very accented English, less accented now that he’s getting used to it. He and Xabi are quickly falling into a sort of friendship with a constant and subtle (sometimes the subtlety escapes him though) sprinkle of flirting in the middle. Or at least that’s what Steven thinks it is and he’ll freely admit he’s an idiot when it comes to flirting, subtle or otherwise. He can’t help it though. And if he’s honest it’s because he doesn’t want to._

_-“Esteban Jorge, don’t be a pain in the ass and get over here already!”_

_-“Say it again!”_

_-“What?”_

_-“My name in Spanish… say it. I like it, sounds strong.”_

_-“Why don’t you just say that you’re obsessed with my accent? So… are you coming or what? I’m not letting it go, so just you know it.”_

_-“I can see that.”_

_-“You’ve got 20 minutes.  Any later than that, I’ll come over to your nerd lair and drag you out by the hair if I have to.”_

_-“OK, fine, I’ll go.”_

_The door of Steven’s room is suddenly blown open. His roommate walks in with his mood written all over his face and slams the door shut before he lands like a rock on his bed._

_-“See you in a few, Xabs.”_

_Steven hangs up and sits down on his bed, careful not to disturb the pile of books by his side._

_-“What now, Harry?”_

_-“Sheree broke up with me,”- Harry whines, turning on his back to stare at the ceiling._

_-“So that’s what… fifth time this year?”_

_-“Fuck off! I swear she’s such a pain in the arse sometimes! We had a fight because she wants to go on a trip to fucking Ireland this weekend and she wants to go with me,”- Harry rattles on despite the lack of any sign of interest from Steven’s part. -“I told her I can’t go because of that fucking Stress Analysis test next Tuesday and of course she had to bring the drama and all the nagging about how I’ve got not time for her and blahblahblah. And then she broke up with me!”_

_-“Again.”_

_-“Thanks for keeping fucking count, Gerrard, I got it the first time you mentioned it, a’right?!?”_

_-“Oi, relax. I don’t understand why you get your knickers in a twist anymore anyway. In two days you’re going throw yourself between her legs begging for forgiveness and that’s it. So cut the drama, stop whining.”_

_Steven throws the words over his shoulder with a look at Harry’s miserable face as he makes his way to the bathroom to change._

_-“Sometimes I really want to be fucking done with her. She’s so manipulative and spoiled and…”_

_-“And you love that shit because you’re still with her.”_

_-“Not anymore I’m not. What part of she broke up with me don’t you get?”_

_-“Same part of that’s bullshit and you know it that’s not clear to you apparently,” - Steven smiles while throwing on a jacket. Harry is paying even less attention to what Steven’s saying than before, which was barely even possible, but this looks a lot like his roommate is about to actually spend a Thursday night with someone other than his Management Principles textbook and his right hand._

_-“Are you actually… going out?”_

_-“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”_

_-“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Don’t tell me you finally got a bird?”_

_Harry almost looks thrilled with the fact that his roommate is finally ready to shed his vow of chastity in the name of science. Steven’s been single since he’s known him or rather happily married to his books. Harry knows all too well that theirs is no course load for slackers, but he’s managed to get a life outside of Uni just fine anyway. He (intermittently) has a girlfriend which at least guarantees some semblance of a safe sex life. Harry also has friends, or rather drinking buddies for parties, all the traditional accessories of Uni life that every student dreams about. Any student Harry knows except for Steven. He has to live every day with the second-hand embarrassment of knowing that the only dates Steven has had since moving in with Harry have been his equally geeky study group buddies._

_Harry feels protective enough of his roommate to worry about this sad state of affairs and he’s taken it upon himself to change it. He’s even tried to introduce Steven to a couple of Sheree’s friends and one of them, a leggy blonde named Alex, seems interested in Steven much to Harry’s surprise. He’s still waiting for his Best Long Suffering Roommate medal after the two double dates Harry’s sat through for the arrangement only to be told by Sheree that Alex gave up soon after Steven told her he’d like to be friends but doesn’t have time for anything else right now. So, OK, Steven is a nerd, but even nerds need have sex, right? It’s all the more mystifying for Harry since Steven’s not exactly horrible to look at and can be quite fun when dragged out of his shell. The few times Harry’s managed to convince him to go out for pints he turned out to be quite a fun drunk, embarrassing dance moves and all._

_And yet, there’s nobody that caught his friend’s eye in that way, not till now apparently. Harry’s noticed it this past month, this is the second time this week that Steven’s going out. He also doesn’t spend every single weekend with his nose buried in a book, which makes him a slightly more cheerful roommate to come home to_

_-“I’m going to the pub. I have a friend who’s in a band...”_

_-“Since when?!?”_

_-“Dunno, it’s a recent development, I guess.”_

_-“No bird then?”_

_-“Yes, Harold, there will be spectators of the female persuasion there, thanks for asking.”_

_-“Fuck’s sakes, you know what I’m talking about. I mean an actual woman crazy enough to even talk to you. Please say yes because you’re freaking me out with this celibate thing.”_

_-“I didn’t know my sex life was such a priority for you,”- Steven says a little annoyed now, taking his keys and heading for the door._

_-“It’s not healthy at our age, lad. I’m only worried because you’re always here or in the library or in class. I don’t even know how you’re still sane after the first year.”_

_-“Ugh, not this again. Relax, Mum, I’m not like you, I don’t need get laid constantly. Maybe if you spent a little more time with your assignments rather than under a pyramid of shots, I’d get my nights to rest properly instead of having to cram math problems into your thick head the night before every single exam.”_

_-“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Blue balls make you tense and stressful and that’s not good for me either, you’re ruining my aura.”_

_-“Fuck off, Harry. I’m going.”_

_-“I love you too, Stevie, have fun.”_

_Steven gives his roommate the middle finger on his way out while Harry blows him a kiss. When Steven shuts the door Harry just mutters “fucking finally” and grabs a book from his desk to start his torturous road to Stress Analysis._

_Steven is trying to understand how Daniel can scream like this and still have his vocal chords intact. However, he’s distracted by how the dimmed lights refract on Xabi’s face when they get a chance to chat between songs. Right now, he’s only half listening to Xabi telling him about the latest lecture of his German professor of Contemporary Art. Something about media influencing hive mentality and stereotypes… Steven does his best to actually listen to Xabi, but his concentration is slipping with every word and he feels himself more and more lost to their meaning and drawn inevitably to the movement of Xabi’s lips and how he’s licking them… Then The Vicious and Rotten starts the second round of songs and Steven startles out of his daydream with the nails-on-a-chalkboard quality of Dan’s screams. Not to mention the slightly terrifying looks Martin throws in their general direction while he’s playing the bass. Their version of “God save the Queen” is much more… dissonant from what Steven remembers from the original. The small audience huddled in front of the scene goes crazy.  Steven and Xabi are sitting at the bar, a little off from the stage, just contemplating Agger’s adoring fans banging their heads, jumping frenetically and trying to scream along to the songs. If Steven were actually capable of enjoying this kind of music, he’d probably have to admit that they’re quite good. Xabi on the other hand is taking large gulps of his beer, his eyes a little wide with every heavy riff of the lead guitarist. He can’t get used to this so easily, not even if he wants to._

_Finally, after another two songs, the band takes a break and Steven can have a proper conversation with Xabi._

_-“This professor of yours… That’s Kloppo right?”_

_-“Jürgen Klopp, yes. You know him?”_

_-“Yeah, I went to one of his lectures last semester, was curious to see what all the hype was about. I think he was a little radical about some things, but overall, pretty good.”_

_-“A little radical?”_

_Steven can see Xabi’s eyes going wider than if he’d bought him five more beers._

_-“Yeah, well, I mean… all that old school Terminator scaremongering about technology… First of all, how 1981 is that? Second, I don’t understand how anyone using a PowerBook G4 for his presentation can say that technology is a reflection of our evolution but also proof or how our humanity is condemned to die with it and keep a straight face,” - Steven rants, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes out. -“Just because you’re not throwing random blotches of paint on a canvas doesn’t mean that you’re all dead on the inside and have no creativity. So all those scientist and engineers who are sequencing our genome or looking for a cure for cancer are not creative? Or those who design artificial limbs so that dumb fucks who drive their motorcycles into trees can have a second shot at a normal life?”_

_Steven can feel heat rising under his collar and only now realizes that Xabi’s been staring at him in riveted contemplation. As soon as he catches his eye, Xabi’s gaze turns mischievous and there’s his goddamn lopsided smile again… Steven knows now that he has no chance of fine-tuning his frankly brilliant argument because his point seems to suddenly escape him with no hope of ever going back to whatever the hell he was rambling about just two seconds before._

_-“What... why are you looking me in that way?”_

_-“Of course you’d say something like that, you’re an engineering student.”_

_-“I didn’t say that he’s not right about some things, I can understand his concern and all, but you can’t just generalize like that.”_

_-“I bet he didn’t. It’s just easy for you to side with the obvious and easy form of “evolution” far from what we’re capable of achieving. Far from it by miles…”_

_-“You’re just crazy as he is.”_

_-“No, I’m not and neither is Kloppo. And for the record, Esteban Jorge” – there it is again – “it’s a mystery for me in this moment how much of prejudiced person you can still be… considering what your hormones indicate to your brain about selecting a mate.”_

_Steven sees Xabi taking a drink from his bottle with his eyes firmly glued to him; they’re practically daring each other._

_-“Look who’s talking,” - it’s all Steven can say._

_-“Really? That’s all you have to say?”- Xabi replies with a shade of ennui in his voice. That’s when Steven takes a few steps, enough to get way too closer to the Spaniard. He leans over and whispers in his ear:_

_-“I know what you want to hear coming from my mouth, Xabier, and it’s not precisely words, isn’t it?”_

_Xabi takes a few deep breaths while Steven retreats slowly to his seat grinning like a cat. His eyes are a darkened blue, shinning with amusement; he’s looking more boyish than ever. Xabi has no regrets about leaving his camera at home, he’s taking mental pictures of this image which so clearly spells out that sooner rather than later he’s going to have this young man right where he’s been dying to have him since the moment he’s laid eyes on him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fragment at the beginning of the chapter is this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM  
> The band's name is courtesy of fräulein <3


	5. Our feet on the sand and nothing else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently txakoli it's delicious...

~.~

_“ I've been led on_

_To think that we've been_

_Trying for too long…”  
_ ~.~

Esteban Granero throws a balled up piece of paper at a distracted Xabi in a futile attempt at getting his attention. The improvised bullet bounces off a sculpted cheek, but Xabi continues to stare at his shoes, eyes far away. They’re in the apartment-studio of the photographer where, in theory, Xabi’s supposed to be taking pictures of Esteban’s big editorial debut, a sci-fi novel that does its best to not obey any earthly logic (according to Xabi anyway).  Esteban knows that Xabi’s offer to be in charge of the new author’s book jacket portrait is as much about doing him a favour as it is about Xabi being too much of a control freak to let anybody else do it, but he’s grateful anyway.

He’s no saint though and by now Esteban is getting annoyed because Xabi’s taking even longer than usual and his mind’s anywhere but in his apartment, making Esteban late for dinner with his editor. It’s almost enough to sidetrack him from realizing that he’s never seen Xabi like this. This is the man who’d calmly ignore wailing and crying for hours or as long as it took to create the perfect baby pictures. Theoretically. If he took baby pictures, which Xabi doesn’t and wouldn’t if his life depended on it. 

-“Mind telling me what in the world got you like this?” Esteban asks, making himself comfortable in his seat while Xabi is back to his tripod adjusting his camera for the fifteenth time this afternoon. 

-“Like what?” 

-“Estás perdido quien sabe dónde… What’s going on” - Xabi finishes the gear adjustment and walks to where Esteban is sitting. He runs his fingers softly along his friend’s bearded jaw, cocking his head to study his features with distant eyes that search the perfect angle.  

 -“Honestly, you look like a cheap version of Jesus Christ Superstar”- Esteban swats away Xabi’s hand with an “Anda a joder al carajo” but he won’t be fooled so easily. 

-“Now tell me what the fuck is going on with you” - Xabi plops himself in the nearest armchair with a tired smile and a heavy sigh.

-“Steven is here”- Esteban’s eyes go as wide as Xabi’s ever seen them.

-“You mean… the English Esteban?”

-“When are you going to drop it hombre?” – Xabi gets up from his seat, not  bothering to hide his dislike of the eternal joke of his ex-friend with benefits, current best friend. They met in Madrid, started out as friends, inevitably ended up in bed, moved in together for an uneventful eight months, enough time to realize that they love each other just enough to be excellent friends, but not nearly enough to be anything requiring commitment and the kind of emotional involvement that’s a reward in itself for the obligatory risk of having your heart broken.

Younger, Spanish Esteban can joke about his English predecessor because he’s a bit less stubborn than Xabi and realized before him that you can’t have a healthy relationship if you’re constantly looking for your Ex (or rather for the Anti-Ex, everything he’s not) in your new “boyfriend”. Esteban still shudders mentally at the very word. Their break-up by mutual arbitration had allowed them to keep their friendship intact. Esteban is now in London, thanks to Xabi’s recommendations, but mostly because his new not-boyfriend, Juan Mata decided to finish his psychology studies there and Esteban had a minor freak out as a result (internally of course). For the record, he came to London to start his writing career, following Xabi’s advice. Period. 

-“Nunca, jamás… I love it; I can’t not have fun with the English Esteban. It’s the perfect metaphor of the constants we cling to in life. You’re a man of constants, Xabi.”

-“Again, drop it”

-“Si sabes que tengo razón. Vale, vale, lo dejo hasta ahí. But I want details. How come he’s back?”

-“Well, he came to the exhibition last night. He saw my pictures earlier when he was passing by the Gallery and decided to show up to the event”.

-“Just like that? He appears in your gallery, the night he knew you would be there, after four years?” 

-“Uhum…”

-“And?”

-“And what?" 

-“Well, I guess that you almost had a heart attack and all, but we can skip that part… what did he say? What did you say to him? And more importantly… did you fuck him?”

-“I only saw him briefly last night, so in that order: he didn’t say much, I didn’t say anything of consequence and, no, we did _not_ fuck. We said hi, oh what a surprise; by the way “I speak Spanish…” 

-“He speaks Spanish???”

-“Yes… and really well” – Esteban see a little smile in the corner of Xabi’s mouth and if he knew it wouldn’t make Xabi shut down completely and/or deck him over the head, he’d point out that he’s suddenly glowing, the way Esteban’s never seen him glow.   

-“Oh, that’s unexpected. All of it. And now what?” 

-“I don’t know, Esteban. He’s just… here. For now”

-“You’re hoping that he’ll stay this time, aren’t you?” – Esteban asks with all the seriousness he’s capable of so that even Xabi feels the concern in his friend’s voice.

-“He came last night knowing that I was there. I was hoping to see him again and… there he is. I’m allowed to, aren’t I?”

-“But you know him pretty well, are you sure that he’s capable this time to choose… to choose you?”

-“It’s kind of early to jump to conclusions, Esteban.”- 

-“Nah, you can’t fool me, querido, that’s what you want, what you always wanted with him. Others would never forgive him for what he did, but you… Deep down you’ve always tried to justify it. And now you can’t deny that you’re hoping that this time he wants to stay. I’m only saying this for your own good, keeping your feet on the ground here. I mean, I know… weird to hear me be the voice of wisdom. But, I’m just saying…. It happened once, nothing says that it can’t happen again” – Xabi is staring at his friend, letting his words wash over him, but Esteban can tell he’s not letting them sink in. 

-“I’m only telling you as your friend, don’t force it if it just can’t be this time,” - Esteban says, landing a protective hand on Xabi’s shoulder- “Just let it flow naturally.” - Xabi’s staring at Esteban’s hand on his shoulder and dammit, he’s right, he knows he’s right; he can’t put himself in this position again. But … this is Steven they’re talking about. It feels both stupid and inevitable somehow, and knowing the consequences doesn’t make it any easier. And besides there’s a time for all, that’s what Xabi believes. Maybe this can be their time. 

-“I’m not going to say that you’re right so there’s no point expecting it, OK?”- Esteban smiles while Xabi ruffles his hair and walks to his camera ready for Esteban’s close-up.

 

~.~

 

**4 years earlier…**

 

_The beach is quiet, small waves dying in the nearness of the shore, bathing Xabi’s naked feet. He decides to take a walk on the beach in the middle of the night just because. Maybe it’s the amount of txakoli that made him decide to go on a walk at 1am on a lonely and chilly November night. The wind is cold and the water makes his bones shiver when it touches his skin, but it doesn’t matter, Xabi cannot be bothered at all in this moment by the weather. By anything. The only thing that does get to him is that he’s stuck in this fucking place that “oh so conveniently” is home._

_He used to love La Concha beach so much, but now it’s inseparable from a feeling of loss. Defeated, tired, sad, angry… he doesn’t know how to fucking define what is his general state of being these days. He’s spent the last six months, three weeks and approximately five days drowning himself in a mix of anger, sadness and alcohol only to conclude that he’s a fucking idiot to let another idiot get under his skin like Stevie did. And more importantly, knowing that he never should have let him do that. Not when he always knew that one day he would leave, just like he did, regardless of the life they built together. But just like knowing the consequences of drinking doesn’t stop it from intoxicating your brain, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind how this would end did not stop Xabi from falling for Steven a little more each day without bothering to fight it_ _._

_Daniel thought that a change of scenery would be good for Xabi and it’s easy to see why since he was the one who’d had to pick up the pieces. Daniel lost count of how many times he received a call in the dead of night from some grumpy pub owner informing him that his friend was about to fall into an ethylic coma. Xabi just drank in these few months all the alcohol that he hadn’t drunk in the seven years Daniel has known him. It scares him a little. And when he asked Xabi why (“Fuck’s sakes, this emo jilted lover cliché is so not  you, Xabs!”) the only answer he’d got was: “I want to hate him. It’s easier to hate him with 0, 75º of alcohol in my blood.” Daniel realized in that moment that it was time for another cliché and he was in charge of the “intervention”, aka kicking Xabi’ ass and sending him back to Spain._

_Hell is indeed paved with good intentions.  At least the booze is better here._

_Now Xabi is drowning himself in sweet wine on the beach, staring at the sea. He doesn’t see November chill. It’s summer instead, they’re baking in the heat of an August afternoon, the sand sizzling with every wave rolling over the coast. They’re kicking a football between them, laughs filling the air, sweat running down their foreheads._

_Fresh air starts to fill their nostrils at nightfall as they walk on the beach, their feet leaving prints in the sand._

_-“Say it in Spanish. Please?"_  

_-“What?”_

_-“In Spanish. Say our feet on the sand and nothing else.”_

_\- “Nuestros pies sobre la arena y nada más.”_

_-“Oh, great, I just ruined it, didn’t I?”- Steven says even though Xabi refrains from collapsing into a fit of laughter at Steven’s attempt to parrot the line in Spanish. He just stares at him wordlessly and nothing else matters in that moment, only them and the beach, the summer heat and terrible Spanish._

_So fucking stupid, Xabi thinks and lets the txakoli do its job. It’s easier to pretend that Steven actually broke his heart than it would be to be reasonable and conclude that he never held onto him strong enough to not let him go. He waited instead… just waited to see if only it was enough to make Steven change his mind. Of course it didn’t. Sometimes Xabi wanted to be the most selfish bastard in the world and hang onto him tight. Of course he couldn’t be. Of course…_

~.~

_“Oh, you look good_  
with your patient face and wandering eye  
Don't hold this war inside”

~.~

-“Since when?”

_-“Since last semester.”_  

-“Really?” 

_-“Yes. Are you surprised?”_

-“Well, not exactly… I can imagine you teaching at UCL just fine. Maybe it’s because your voice just has that naturally patronizing Professor quality to it.”

_-“Don’t even think I haven’t heard that one before. It was the first reaction from a friend of mine too.”_

-“I like that friend of yours already. So what do you teach?”

_-“A photography class. I like it. The students aren’t complete morons and it keeps me busy between my own projects.”_

-“Sounds cool…. ”

Steven is staring out the window of his office from a crooked angle so he can hold the phone close to his ear. The sun is setting over the city in orange shades that bathe London in false balminess. The real warmth is the one rising in his chest and Steven thinks it would be so easy to get used to it again. The trouble is he doesn’t know if he really wants to or if he can make a different choice this time or… Fuck it. He’s overthinking everything right now and it’s getting annoying.

_-“Daniel is going to kill you when he sees you, by the way.”_

-“It’s not my fault I couldn’t see him while he’s off wandering at conventions.”

_-“Nevermind, he’ll kill you anyway. I’ll be ready at around 6:30, alright?”_

-“OK. I got to finish a couple of things before, so, I’ll meet you… where?”

_-“We can meet at the gallery if you want.”_

-“Ok… I’ll see you in a bit then”

_-“Vale, hasta más tarde”_

-“Bye.” 

Steven sits down slowly in his plush leather chair. He’s scared and not afraid to admit it to himself. He is afraid he doesn’t know if he can keep a promise this time, not when he knows that his professional future doesn’t involve London in any sort of long or even medium term. Steven doesn’t want to be selfish again. He’s learned already that you can’t have it all, that choices have to be made, but he fucking hates having to choose. He’s never really had to before, the decision was made long before… He’s never had to fight against a gut-churning _what if_ … He fucking hates the doubt that’s recently nestled somewhere inside him.

He looks at his watch. Maybe he’s doomed like all matter is doomed. Xabi is his entropy. Always.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pieces are part of the story's song...


	6. And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's ass have a cameo here... justifying the rating ok?

~.~

_“_ _And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways_  
so in case I'm mistaken  
I just wanna hear you say you got me baby  
Are you mine?”  
~.~

**10 Years Earlier**

  * _page 156-168 Fluids Mechanics problems to solve_
  * _check Management Principles essay for Wednesday_
  * _STRESS ANALYSIS FINAL. THURSDAY!!!_



_Steven is making a mental list of his pending issues while running across campus on his way to his room. It’s raining and his raincoat is battling with the aggressively heavy drops that have not stopped all afternoon. His building is not really that far, but in the middle of the fucking rain and given his desperate need to get to his room and start his social isolation for the next four days, it’s way too far for Steven’s liking._

_He hisses a quick hello to his neighbours once he gets inside the dorm building and skips two stairs at a time up to his room, a sense of relief bathing Steven when he finally reaches his door. His bliss is shot to hell pretty quickly, more specifically when he’s greeted with the sight of Harry’s pale ass pounding like there’s not tomorrow into someone… Steven thinks it may be Sheree judging by the sound of her voice between moans. His suspicion is validated by the scream she lets out when she sees the door’s been open for a while._

_-“Fucking God, Harry! How many times do I have to tell you: when you’re screwing someone, LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR!”- Steven screams, exasperated, closing the door again and just sort of standing there waiting to see what the Universe has to say for itself after today._

_Not only did Steven sleep in through half of his first class, which cost a glare from his professor, but he’d followed it up with a disastrous meeting with his lab partner because the fucking idiot couldn’t finish his part of the final report because he was sick or whatever, like anything other than Karposi’s Sarcoma or TSETSE DISEASE is a valid excuse. The applied maths exam at noon was so fucking long and took two hours after the regular class to finish it. And when he got to the Library it was so packed that Steven had no choice but to run to his room and of course, what else could he expect if not Harry fucking someone? Like a slap to his face, a reminder of what his sex life is… the very definition of imaginary numbers: can be thought of as complex numbers whose real part is zero. Steven is a complex human being whose sex life is about as tangible as zero._

_A more decent version of Harry, one wearing pants but not a trace of apology in his demeanour, steps out of the room, closing the door again and addressing his roommate in an almost whispering tone:_

_\- “Next time, can you please be more specific and mention Sheree’s name when you’re screaming that I’m fucking someone? Because your little freak out made it sound like I fuck just about anyone walking through this door and that’s not what Sheree needs to hear right now!”_

_-“And why do I have to give a fuck? Is it so hard to just lock the fucking door? Your arse is the last thing I needed to see right now, for fuck’s sakes!”_

_-“Sorry, I thought you were going to be in the library, that was the plan!”_

_-“Well, the library is fucking packed right now and I can’t go study there. Besides, I need my other books…,”- Steven is about to enter, but Harry gets in the way._

_-“Come on Harry, stop fucking about, I need my room.”_

_-“It’s also my room and I’m kind of busy right now.”_

_-“Fuck off, Harry. Take her to her room!”_

_-“Stevie please, please… We’re so close… I’m almost_ _forgiven.”_

_-“No shit”-_

_-“I can’t just kill the mood right now.”_

_-“I don’t fucking care.”_

_-“Please Gerrard, just this time. Can you go to a friend of yours or something? I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”_

_Steven’s so fucking upset right now, but he knows that Harry in the end is going to get away with it like always so there’s no point wasting some more of his time on him. He sighs a “Fine” and “let me get my books”. He says Hi to Sheree, grabs his books and turns to Harry:_

_-“You owe me a big one, fucker”._

_Harry just answers “You’re a dear”, closes the door and Steven steps out there evaluating his choices. It’s still not too late to kick Harry’s ass and send him to his bird’s room. Alternatively, he could call his study group buddies, but they’re probably in the library and he wouldn’t be able to focus there, or… or… Steven’s not actually considering any of those options. He’s only thinking of how convenient it is that Xabi has his own room, a room for him and only him (with a bathroom of course). The benefits of being the son of a prosperous owner of a lithography in Spain. He’s also thinking how good it would be to have a quiet place like that to… study._

_Steven doesn’t even know why, but he feels the urge to… to… He’s so fucking stressed, he could do with someone to make fun of his hair and his engineering books and generally tease him into feeling better. Xabi is just a natural candidate for that, Steven thinks, just like he’s thought about him this morning. And yesterday. He’s thinking of Xabi a lot lately. He feels like he’s swallowed ATOMIC lead when he presses Xabi’s number on the speed dial then panicks because he has no clue what to say if Xabi picks up. “Oh, hiya, Xabi, I was just wondering… Can I go to your room and study there?”… No, that makes no sense, it’s true, but it’s just so convenient…_

_-“Hola, Esteban.” – “_ Fuck… that accent… fucking tease _” is all Steven can think, busy as he is withstanding a rush of heat that travels through his stomach and slightly lower down._

_-“Hi, Xabi… Hi… uhm… how are you?”_

_-“I’m OK. How are you?”_

_-“Fine…fine… Uhm… are you in class or something?”_

_-“No, I’m in my room. I was finishing a book. You?”_

_Steven swallows hard, trying to remember what they say about the truth and freedom and all that._

_-“I was planning to be in my room too, studying. But my roommate is in there fucking his way out of the doghouse and the library is completely booked… it’s fucking raining, everybody is trapped there and…”_

_-“And…?”_

_Steven is mentally kicking himself because he feels so stupid_

_-“And well, you have a room big enough for two people to study in peace and quiet.”_

_A little pause._

_-“Are you saying that you want to come here and study?”_

_-“Please?”_

_-“Seriously?”_

_-“Y-yes”_

_-“Are you saying that you want to come to my room, with your sacred scrolls of engineering and study? Here? With me?”_

_Steven clears his throat; trying to calm himself (who the hell gives Xabi the right to have this effect on him) and simply says “Yes”._

_Xabi’s smirking. He stands up from his bed and walks to the window, mentally counting the steps and stopping when his nose is almost pressed to the rain-covered window.  Only ten steps._

_-“OK.”_

_-“OK?”_

_\- Si… OK.”_

_Steven stands very still for a while, a smile creeping on his features._

_-“See you there, Alonso.”_

_-“Aqui te espero.”_

_Steven’s still trying to translate that into English while he’s running across campus under relentless rain for the second time, this time towards Xabi’s building. He’s soaking wet by the time Xabi opens his door and he makes for quite a lame sight with his bag tucked under the raincoat and a pout on his face. Unsurprisingly, Xabi finds it terribly amusing._

_-“Lucky for you that my hands are occupied. Punching you in the face can be funny too.”_

_-“You’ll be dripping all over my floor, call it even.”_

_Xabi takes Steven’s raincoat and his bag and walks to his closet to get a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for Steven._

_-“Here, put this on. I’ll make some tea; you need something hot in your system.”_

_Steven sees the door closing. He starts to peel off his wet clothes. He’s really cold, tea sounds like a great idea right now and the dry clothes on him make him feel better already. He walks to the bed and sits down by a pile of books. The folder shoved under it piques his curiosity. Xabi walks in with a cup and sits down besides Steven, handing him the cup._

_-“Careful, it’s hot.”_

_-“Thank you. Where’s yours?”_

_-“I don’t drink tea. I’m a coffee person.”_

_-“Of course you are,” - Steven smiles, sipping his tea. It spreads a delicious warmth to his insides._

_-“I think that you’re going to be here a while, make yourself at home.”_

_-“Oh, you’re so sweet, Xabs…_ _"_

_-“Bite me!”_

_-“You certainly make great tea.”_

_Xabi smiles, choosing to take it as a compliment, which it is._

_-“Finals stressing you out?”_

_-“Ugh, yeah. These weeks are the worst”_

_-“Won’t be a problem for you.”_

_-“Really? How come?”_

_-“Because you love what you do, you work hard for your grades.”_

_-“It’s called trying to hold on to a scholarship.”_

_-“Plus, you’re too stubborn for fail. Failure doesn’t exists in your world.”_

_-“You got a point there. Trust me, understanding applied math or fluid mechanics requires stubbornness.”_

_-“You’re studying something called Fluid Mechanics? That’s an actual… academic subject?”_

_-“Yes, and it’s horrible.”_

_-“Sounds interesting: fluid mechanics… I can already imagine some… intriguing applications.”_

_Steven sees Xabi’s grin and he’s trying to read whatever he thinks there is to read into it without much luck._

_-“What are you reading?”- Steven manages to say once he becomes aware of the silence._

_-“Something for my contemporary art class.”_

_Steven rummages through the books and it’s a feeble excuse to take a peek at the folder buried under them. A photo slides from between the folder’s covers and Steven picks it up nonchalantly like oh what do we have here, picture of Daniel and Martin playing footie in the park. The colours are so vivid, the green of the grass, Martin’s blue sweater and Daniel’s work-in-progress sleeve tattoos._

_-“This is great, Xabs, the colours… Look at Agger’s tats!”_

_There a couple more pictures of the tattoo twins tackling each other, until Steven stills his fingers on a picture of himself. He remembers that day; they were playing in the park, but he hadn’t known that Xabi was there taking pictures of them. He holds up his portrait for closer inspection and he’s seeing himself painted by Xabi camera, realizing that is probably the way Xabi sees him._

_-“You know what I love about this one? How uncharacteristically carefree you look. I mean, there’s an actual smile on your face, look…  Best natural light I can work with. Makes you look like nothing is impossible for you, like you own the world.”_

_Steven turns to see Xabi’s face and his eyes are on him, so warm and inviting at the same time. They’re so close now that they can feel heat emanating off each other’s skin. All it would take would be one little step, Steven thinks, that’s all he’d need to press his lips to Xabi’s… and he takes it. He just kisses Xabi lightly on the lips, almost tenderly. It starts slowly, like they’re just getting to know each other until Xabi gets impatient. He’s the one who starts kissing Steven roughly, biting into his lower lip, tasting him. Xabi’s kissing him like it’s the only thing in this world he wanted so much for so long. Steven responds in the same way, intoxicated on Xabi’s taste, his weight in his lap now, his hips rolling on his crotch, the friction making him hungry for more. He takes off Xabi’s shirt, grabs him by his waist to drag him closer seeking relief for his throbbing cock. Xabi moans into his mouth and it’s so fucking hot, it’s the only thing Steven’s interested in hearing ever again._

_Xabi slips his hands under his borrowed t-shirt and Steven helps him take it off. When he can see him again, Xabi’s cheeks are flushed and his lips bitten red and he looks… he looks…_

_-“Fuck me,”- Xabi says in a voice deep and raspy that makes Steven shiver like he’s back under the downpour outside. He feels Xabi’s hand on his cock, stroking him under the sweatpants, not stopping the kisses. There’s really no need to be asked twice. Steven’s pretty determined to comply already, pushing Xabi down on the mattress, taking his pants and boxers off with surprisingly methodical swiftness for a man who’s as dizzy with need as he is, biting and licking his belly... Oh, he’s so ready to obey from the first time of asking._

_He fucks him twice. The sound of the rain smashing harder against the window pane mixes in with their heated gasps and cries. After, when they’re exhausted and heavy-limbed, Xabi lifts his face off Steven’s chest to whisper:_

_-“You definitely have the most original methods for studying I’ve ever seen. Think I prefer this to shouting at your books though.”_

_Steven just chuckles at it. He doesn’t sleep in his room that night. He passes his finals dangerously close to the minimum necessary to keep his scholarship, but for the first time he doesn’t care. He’s ready to spend a lot of time studying in Xabi’s room. It’s his favourite study method, for both of them now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fragment in the start of the chapter is part of this song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeKlG1Zsbp8  
> Gracias boluda! :*


	7. Let just hang out...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... I'll try to be more regular in the updates. Having a busy time me. Thanks for the patience ;)

~.~

 

-“You… SON OF A BITCH!”

-“Hello to you too, Dan…”

Daniel grabs Steven by the waist and lifts him up from the floor just to put him down again and give him a big hug. Steven’s not too fond of public displays of affection, but he’s just as happy to see the Dane and even Martin, who’s actually smiling open and wide. Steven almost forgot that sometimes he smiles.

-“Great to have you back, Stevie”- Martin says while he’s hugging Steven. They’re in the tattoo shop that Dan and Martin opened a couple of years back. From what Xabi’s been telling him, they’re quite famous and it’s obviously no exaggeration judging by the pictures of footballers and rockstars on display on the walls.

-“Thanks, Martin. It’s great to be back.”

-“Xabi said you’ve been in England for almost two months. How hard should I kick your ass for showing up just now?”

-“I’m pretty sure I also told you that he was visiting his family in Liverpool.”

-“Whatever, you can go and fuck yourself… so how come you’re back anyway? You’re staying or just passing by?”

The question makes Steven hesitate a little and steal a sideways glance to Xabi, who’s staring at him, and when their eyes meet, Xabi just turns away from him and pretends to be looking at Daniel instead.

-“Well, I’m here for the moment. We have a project that I’m supervising from our headquarters here. Keeps me quite busy for now.”

-“Sounds… important. So you’re in a big office with leather chairs and great view of the city,”- Martin says in a tone that Steven can label under “loathing” with a nostalgic smile, knowing that Martin most likely pities his white-collar worker existence. It’s still amusing to Steven how his best friends (a category in which he includes his ex) live in this fascinating dream world without boundaries or labels and say things like “the establishment” with a straight face and see it as their duty to protect Steven from it. His major challenge had always been to try to find a balance between his own world and his infiltration into their world. Steven loves a challenge.

-“Yes, I’m not used to it. Being locked up in an office after so many years out on oil fields is boring as hell.”

-“No kidding. It must be like dying inside a little bit each day.”

-“Cut the crap, Daniel,”- Xabi says, rolling his eyes out.

-“Let me show you around _our_ office.”

Daniel leads them into the study he shares with Martin, a chaotic room filled with pictures of Dan and Martin’s greatest hits. There’s also a portrait of Daniel’s family, his girlfriend and son smiling above his desk and Steven can tell this one is Xabi’s. He can recognize his work by the way the light bathes the vivid colours in his photos, a stronger mark than any signature.

-“I can’t believe you’re a Dad, Agger!”

-“Me neither. I get up every morning and have to remind myself: get up, brush your teeth, you’re a Dad!”

-“That poor child, you have to feel for him with Daniel as his dad and Martin as his godfather. Rough start in life,”- Xabi says with a grin which brings him two middle fingers in his direction. Steven can’t help but smile as well.

-“What about you, Martin?”

-“What about me?”

-“Isn’t your biological clock ticking yet?”

-“Now _Martin_ as a daddy, that’s something I’d pay money to see,”- Xabi says with a chuckle, ignoring Martin’s glare.  

-“I have a godson, that’s enough for me at the moment. Probably enough for any moment.”

-“At least Martin knows what he doesn’t want in his life, right, compadre?”- Daniel is well aware of his best friend’s determination to not perpetuate his DNA.

-“Right back at you. Besides, I don’t want to contribute to overpopulating the planet.”

-“That’s a valid point,”- Steven says, almost in a reasoning tone.

-“I think I need some alcohol,”- Xabi gets up from his seat and grabs his jacket, -“you’re all turning into boring old farts who talk of nothing but changing diapers.”

-“I told Esteban to bring his not-boyfriend,”- Daniel puts the obligatory quotation marks around Juan’s confusing status with his fingers. - “We’re going to meet them at the pub.”

-“Esteban?...”- Steven tries but fails to sound disinterested, especially once he notices the pointed look Xabi throws toward Daniel the moment he mentions this Esteban person.  

-“Friend of mine. He moved here from Madrid a few months ago.”

-“It’ll be quite fun to have Esteban Jorge and Esteban in the same room.”

Martin can’t hide his mischievous grin and if Steven was intrigued before, now he has this urgency to know exactly who the mystery guest is. Generally, Xabi is the type of person who will remain impassive when he’s questioned about any personal matter, but one thing that Steven learned in their relationship is how to read every single expression on Xabi’s body, like deciphering a riddle. The tension in his shoulders, how he balls up his hands in fists and quickly unclenches them, how his eyes go just half a shade darker; Steven knows he’s feeling uncomfortable with this “friend’s” presence. It’s definitely something more.  

-“So, is this Esteban a close friend of yours?”- Steven smirks and the fact that Xabi is visibly pissed off is all the more reason for his smile to grow even wider.

-“Close enough.”

-“Y su nombre es Esteban, vaya coincidencia.”

-“Must be my weakness. Every guy I run into with that name just has this natural tendency to bug me in ten thousand little ways. I’m almost sure it could be classified as a form of masochism.”

Steven just stares at Xabi, at his tense face, the one he used to call his dangerous look, and all Steven can think is how much he wants to… wants… fuck, there are a lot of things he wants to do to him right now. And Xabi knows exactly what’s behind Steven’s stare because he’s not even finished speaking and he feels on familiar territory again, the gathering storm before a low-simmering argument palpable in the air around them. They’re in slow-motion in the whirling wind, a little bubble of private body language and mind-reading as if nothing’s changed, like an air pocket caught inside a glacier from another era. It feels like they’re about to continue a discussion started years ago.  

-“Oi, you two, can we go now? Fucking finish the staring contest and move your asses!”

They wake up from their reverie thanks to Daniel’s protests – this is also nothing new.

 

Twenty minutes later they’re entering the pub looking for a table, until Daniel spots Esteban submerged in deep conversation with Juan in a quiet corner. Well, Juan is doing all the talking; Esteban is just listening with a riveted expression painted on his face. Steven takes them both in once Daniel announces his discovery of the pair. The one who’s talking has a boyish smile, while the other looks… well… Steven doesn’t like clichés but if the term “hipster douchebag” were to ever be illustrated in the dictionary, this guy’s mugshot will do quite nicely, Steven thinks. He’s currently lost in whatever the other guy is blabbering about, obviously finding him interesting in many ways. Steven is challenging himself to guess which one’s Esteban is and for some reason that escapes him, he’s got his money on the one who’s staring in quiet contemplation. Maybe it’s because he can easily imagine this theoretical Spanish namesake with Xabi - the beard, that air of pseudo-intellectual who can regale you with his sophisticated opinions on everything from the latest trend in interior design to the end of Western civilization mirrored in reality shows… It all just fits and it’s giving Steven heartburn even though he hasn’t had coffee in hours.  

Steven and his friends walk to the table and Juan pauses for breath and welcomes them with a warm smile.

-“Finalmente! We were beginning to worry we were in the wrong pub. We’ve been waiting for an hour,”- Juan says, shaking hands with his new acquaintances. Esteban remains seated, looking at (well more like scrutinizing) Steven with a knowing smile.

Steven on the other hand is smiling because his suspicions are confirmed.

-“Steven, this is Juan.”

-“Juan Mata, very nice to meet you.”

-“And this is Esteban Granero,”- Xabi makes the introductions and takes a seat besides Juan, while Steven sits next to Esteban.

-"Es un verdadero placer conocerte, Steven. He escuchado mucho sobre ti.”

-“Ojala pudiera decir lo mismo… de seguro el placer sería igual si supiera algo de ti. Aunque si eres amigo de Xabi, no tengo dudas que el conocerte pueda ser una grata experiencia.”

-“Oh, fuck off. Can we please stick to English since we’re in fucking England? This is unfair, you guys.”

-“Don’t worry Dan, they’re only saying Hi and nice to meet you. Nothing important,”- Xabi says looking at Steven with wary eyes, and Juan chuckles like he’s been transported back in _Passive Aggressive Behavioural Studies_ which, granted, was only last semester…

-“I’ll speak English for you Daniel, cool off. And Xabi certainly knows how to select the most interesting people to welcome in his personal circle, so I think that the experience will be great for the both of us, Steven”- Esteban winks to his new friend and adds for Xabi’s benefit: -“Ya veo que tienes debilidad por los sarcásticos tambien, querido amigo.”

-“You know what, Dan? We probably need to get started on Spanish for Dummies, we’ve been surrounded by the lispy little fuckers for years. ”

-“We’re in motherfucking England Mart, English’s good enough for me. Just wish that mis amigos could say the same.”

-“You’re so eloquent when you share your thoughts, Dan." 

-“Are you trying to mock me, Little John?”

-“I’m not trying. I’m pretty successful at it actually.”

-“Welcome to the crowded marriage these two have got going. You’d think Juan is Esteban’s boy… erm… special friend, but once he gets started on bickering with Daniel, it’s hard to tell which one’s the old married couple,”- Martin tells Steven with a grin while the other two are trapped in their silly argument that lasts until someone (usually Xabi) stops them because they’re boring everyone else.

The first few round of beers take the edge off even for the prickly Dane and between stories of Steven’s travels, the tattoo shop, Esteban’s book ( _Of course he’s a writer_ , Steven laughs quietly to himself), Xabi and his students and Juan analysing each one of them and giving his slightly slurred diagnosis about how structured their personalities are (and how fucked up Daniel is in general), Steven doesn’t even realize how quickly he’s gotten into a beer-flavoured content mood. He’d even settled into a wary mutual respect type of situation with Esteban, who seemed genuinely fascinated by his experiences in Latin America, confessing that he envies Steven for getting to savour its culture and that he dreams of one day moving there to write The Great South American Novel. So Steven’s ready to file this under a great night at the pub. From time to time he even steals a glance at Xabi, but he’s only human and he can always blame the booze.

Suddenly, Steven suspects that the night doesn’t end here.

-“Ok, I’m knackered,” Daniel mumbles, admitting defeat.

-“It’s only 2:30, man.”

-“You don’t have a toddler in your house, getting under your duvets at 6:30 in the morning each fucking day… where’s Martin anyway?”

-“I think he’s working on getting someone under his duvet as well,”- Xabi says motioning to the bar where Martin is lost in a somewhat intimate conversation with a tall and gorgeous brunette.

-“Horny bastard, now I have to go and catch a taxi by myself. I hate lonely taxi rides when I’m drunk.”

-“Don’t worry, Daniel, we’ll join you. You have my permission to fondle Juan on the backseat. Nothing below the waist though, not without your girlfriend present.”

-“Fuck you!”

Juan sounds on top of the world, eyes bright and body wired like he’s ready to take the town by storm, dance a polka, run with the bulls… anything, anything but sleep. -“It’s only 2:30, I want another teeeeeeeequila! Jose Cuervo is the only man I want to fondle tonight, you hear me?”

-“Careful, Little John or your boyfriend is not going to cuddle you.”

Juan bursts out laughing in Daniel’s freckled face and Esteban raises his martyred eyes towards the ceiling, regretting that he’s still not drunk enough to cope with his not-boyfriend and a drunk humourist Dane. He’d rather not hear some things that are painfully true, regardless of how many drinks he’s had… because he actually loves cuddling with Juan. Esteban doesn’t want to be reminded how fucked up he actually is.

 

Xabi feels a little dizzy but in the good way. The cool wind brings welcome relief to his heated cheeks. He closes his eyes and inhales the air deeply. He’s outside the pub waiting for the others, until he can sense a presence besides him.

-“I’m surprised.”

-“How come?”

-“You’re not drunk.”

-“You want me drunk?”- Xabi’s eyes go wide and he turns to find Steven studying him closely.

-“It wasn’t so long ago that all three drinks could do was get you dance flamenco on the table. You must have had at least double that tonight, but Daniel’s the one who’s trying to walk straight to the bathroom.”

-“I must have developed resistance to the power of ethylic alcohol in these years.”

-“Too bad. You used to be a really amusing drunk.”

-“I remember that you found me amusing in many others ways.”

-“I have no doubt that I still can,” -Steven responds while he’s getting closer to Xabi, only inches between them now. The Spaniard doesn’t move a muscle, stays impassive in the same place, a slight smile barely forming on his features.

Their standoff is interrupted by Juan’s manic braying for more Cuervo and Daniel chanting _“Malagueña Salerosa”_ in his very clumsy Spanish. Xabi’s only excuse for teaching him the song was that at time he’d been in the same state Daniel’s in right now. Esteban is gently nudging Juan out the door when he spots his friend with said friend’s ex and he starts chuckling, all the Ex permutations amuse him to no end in his intoxicated state.

-“Xaaaabi! Come on, Xabi do the chorus with me… _“Eres  liiiinnnnddddaaaaa y hechizera, eres linda y hechizera como el candor de una rosa.”_

-“He’s been stuck on that line for the last ten minutes,” -Esteban sighs, second-hand embarrassment visible on his face. “He started singing it to the girl that’s with Martin and he almost punched him. Where the hell did Agger learn that?”

-“Courtesy of Xabi. 2007, Martin’s birthday,”-Steven answers and Esteban cracks up at the mental image of Xabier Alonso Olano singing rancheras, drunk off his ass.-“Trust me, Esteban, even the _ayayayayyy_ mariachi scream was there.”

-“Oi, Esteban, where’s the taxi? You had _one_ job, Granero!”

_“…malagueñaaaa salerosaaaa, besar tu labios quisiera…”_

-“And grab your Little one before he dislocates my arm. Stop shouting into my ear, no more tequila for you tonight!”

Finally a taxi appears and Esteban literally pushes Daniel and Juan into it and sighs heavily before turning to the other two men.

-“So, want me to call you a taxi for you two or…”

-“I feel like walking, do you want to come with me Xabs?”- Steven looks expectantly at Xabi. The Spaniard says goodbye to Esteban with a hug and a light kiss on his cheek, waves to the other two who are by this this point ready to drool on each other’s shoulders in the taxi and starts to walk away, stopping a few steps into his departure to look at Steven one last time.

-“So, are you coming or did you change your mind?”   

-“You better go. Pleasure to meet you Steven,”- Esteban says and extends his hand to Steven, a confirmation of this balance they seem to have struck throughout the night. Before he climbs into the waiting car though he turns again and tells Steven: -“El siempre estuvo esperando por ti ¿sabes? Creo que siempre lo hará.”

Steven watches the taxi’s lights fade into the distance and turns to see Xabi waiting for him in the middle of the street.

-“Are you hungry?”

-“I could eat something, yeah.”

-“Waffles maybe?”

-“Waffles?”

-“Why not waffles?”

-“At this hour? Where?”

-“Just walk, I know a place.”

-"Do they have coffee?”

-“Xabi, if they have waffles, they have coffee.”

-“OK then.”

-“Just trust me…”

-“Always.”

~.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations, at least the most importants: 
> 
> Es un verdadero placer conocerte, Steven. He escuchado mucho sobre ti = It’s a real placer to meet you Steven, I heard a lot about you.
> 
> Ojala pudiera decir lo mismo… de seguro el placer sería igual si supiera algo de ti. Aunque si eres amigo de Xabi, no tengo dudas que el conocerte pueda ser una grata experiencia = I wish I could say the same… for sure, the placer would be equal if I knew anything from you. Though, if you’re friend with Xabi, I have no doubts that to meet you could be a very pleasant experience. 
> 
> Él siempre estuvo esperando por ti ¿sabes? Creo que siempre lo hará = He’s been waiting for you… you know? I think he always will be. 
> 
> Malagueña Salerosa in this version is the best... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjmcE4QiBkc


	8. The moment they both need  to happen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So glad to be back...
> 
> :)

~.~

“ _Do you mind if I take you home tonight_

_Stay another day, if that’s ok,_

_Tell me baby_

_Would you mind if I take you home with me_

_Where no one can see_

_So don’t be shy…”_

~.~

 

It’s past three in the morning and the smell of fresh coffee mixed with the sweet aroma of chocolate sauce melting in the warm waffles fills their nostrils. The 24 hour coffee shop has only three costumers Steven, Xabi and another guy who’s talking very amiably with the waitress. Xabi is content to just sip his coffee, watching almost in awe as Steven wolfs down his second helping of waffles.

-“You were seriously hungry, weren’t you?”

-“Not really. Can’t say no to more of the same when it’s so delicious though, can I?”

-“Gluttony is a mortal sin.”

-“Are you calling me a sinner?”

-“I am.”

That lull in every sound and movement that’s unique to this time of the night, settles over the café minute by minute and word by word. Xabi can feel it though, that pulse in his blood that he doesn’t want to call yearning and covers it up under a thick layer of warmth his body can only seem to produce around Steven. He knows he’s probably staring a little too insistently at his every gesture and smile, but he’s busy cataloguing the various little ways in which Steven’s changed. The wrinkles in his forehead are deeper and he’s a more patient listener than Xabi remembers, even when he doesn’t agree.

One thing has not changed, and is the way how Steven looks at Xabi when he’s speaking. His shinning blue eyes rest so peacefully on his, a hidden smile on his lips, contented to only to listen the Spaniard’s rambling. Xabi can’t hide the satisfaction that a little detail like that can bring, just knowing that he can still have Steven in this way.

-“So what happened between you and the writer wannabe?”

-“He’s actually good, you know? You should try to read his book once it’s out.”

-“I don’t know if I can take that kind of surrealism. I hate when a book gives me a headache instead of making me feel like I’ve invested my time in something that worth the effort.”

-“Being in oil fields all this time has killed your imagination then?”

-“I’m the practical kind, you know me… and don’t change the subject. Come on, how come you aren’t together?”

-“How come you’re so interested?”

-“Try living in close quarters with a bunch of smelly men for years and see how gossipy you get. I dunno… He seems to have a lot in common with you, so it’s strange that you aren’t together.”

-“That’s probably the main reason we’re not. We understand each other a little too well, I guess. We like the same things… all we ever used to argue about was Luis Buñuel movies or how overrated Paulo Coelho is these days. Well, always.”

-“Mundane situations are too much to handle for someone like him?”

-“No… we were incapable of living those situations together, that’s another subject. I think that’s why he’s taken such a liking to Juan, it gets him completely out of his comfort zone. You should have seen how pissed off he was when Juan forced him into watching The X Factor and then he became even more aggravated when he couldn’t stop watching…  Completely lost his marbles the other night, they got into this whole… discussion about voting for the next round. Apparently, Esteban was all in for the girl with the best voice while Juan dared to agree with the people’s choice. You can imagine Esteban’s rant about societal collapse and dumbing down expectations in the entertainment industry, but it’s not too hard for Juan to shut his mouth.”

-“How?”

-“Giving him a blowjob. He’s a hopelessly easy lay.”

Steven’s chuckles bring a wide grin in Xabi’s features.

–“Have to give Little John some credit. He’s brave to even try to lower Esteban to plebe status.”

-“They watch the show every week now. They even made me see it this one time.”

-“No way! Wait… are you actually telling me… NO!”

-“You can’t critique something you don’t watch, right? It’s quite a fascinating look into how starved for attention we’ve become as a society, sad really. Plus… there’s the occasional talented Singer wasting their time there…”

-“You watch The X Factor now?”- Steven smirks, narrowing his eyes at Xabi, who’s trying to hide his embarrassment in the coffee cup.

-“Sometimes…”

-“Xaaaabsss…,”- Steven says in a singsong tone.

-“OK, fine, yes… I watch the bloody show now!”

Steven’s shaking with laughter, his face getting progressively more scarlet as his eyes are slowly filing up with tears. Xabi throws a napkin into his face and mutters something about predictability, but he’s failing really hard at not cracking up himself.

-“OK, fine, you’ve had your fun… So… how about you?”

-“What about me?”

-“Are you married to the job?”

-“Married and committed."

-“Oh come on, I can’t believe you wouldn’t manage to at least guarantee, I don’t know… some casual sex, right?”

-“What?!?”

-“Or whatever you people do to cope with your jobs.”

-“Casual sex was provided in the right amount, yeah, now that you’ve brought it up…,”- Steven says, pursing his lips and enjoying the perplexed stare Xabi seems to be stuck in. There’s a moment of silence until Steven speaks again.

-“It can’t be that surprising that getting into a… relationship in those conditions is kind of difficult.”

-“But you’d … I don’t know… kind of…”

-“Missed it?”

-“I mean… yes… Do you?”

Steven looks intently at Xabi and he’s got the words trapped in his throat, convinced it’s not the right time to let them slip away, just not right now anyway.

It’s not about needing to hear it. Xabi knows that certain things were genuine between them because he learned with Steven that there are more effective ways to express your feelings, to make them real and tangible. Words aren’t enough to keep someone by your side, showing it is more powerful and goes deeper than just saying it. Xabi doesn’t have any doubt that Steven really loved him, unspoken as it was. He didn’t need it anyway.

But in this moment he wants to hear _I miss you_ so badly.

Steven would not admit in a thousand years that (even his mule-like stubbornness has its limits or that he’s reached them a few times) especially in lonely nights in camps, when it was quiet enough to hear Xabi’s breath in his ear and the mountain air was crisp enough to smell Xabi’s scent; that he could feel his fingertips slightly touch the inside of his wrist, Xabi’s lips in the nape of his neck, his warmth engulfing him… There was a price to pay for those all too brief moments of relief once Steven’s mind returned him to reality.

Still… he’s not going to say it. And Xabi knows it.

-“You get used to it eventually. It’s just… part of the job, one more cog that has to fit in the mechanism.”

-“Is it worth it?”- Xabi ask pointedly but quietly, looking straight into Steven’s eyes, demanding an answer that he already knows. He’s always known it. 

-“I’d make the same decision again.”

-“Of course you would,”- Xabi says, smiling, lowering his eyes towards Steven’s hands on the table. He just lets his fingers touch the knuckles on Steven’s right hand. An instant later they’re drifting towards the soft skin of his wrist with so much intention that Steven can feel it traveling through his pores.

-“You know… at the time, I said to myself,”- Xabi starts to trace little circles in Steven’s palm, - “how selfish it would be…  me having it all and you missing out on what you always dreamed of before us. Seeing you now, knowing that you did what you really wanted to do… It makes me nothing but proud of you.”

-“I know,”- Steven’s whisper is almost lost on its way to his palm. His eyes are fixed on the invisible doodles traced with Xabi’s finger.

-“I’m happy for you. I mean, doesn’t matter what happened… in the end we both got what we wanted. There’s a few people in the world that can say out _what I am today is what I always saw myself becoming from the beginning_ , and that’s what it’s important.”

-“It is. It really is…”

Xabi smiles, knowing that this is all that Steven can allow himself to say.  He can already feel how much energy Steven’s spending right now on breathing and being emotionally repressed at the same time, natural multitasker that he is. He’s not sure if he should be excited or stressed about it. It would probably serve him well to bow to Esteban’s wisdom and stay neutral… But goddammit, it’s really difficult to keep an even keel with Steven, not when what Xabi really wants to do is make him give up on both the breathing and the compartmentalizing sides of the equation.

-“Do you want something else?”- Steven stands up from his seat, the question an obvious attempt at politeness, because as Xabi can see, he has no intention of staying put any longer. Xabi would recognize the look in his eyes if they were both blindfolded and it sends shivers down his spine.

He knows they both need this to happen.

A few pounds are left on the table. Steven is the first to step out of the small bubble of warmth, his heart racing at dizzying speed in his ribcage. He breathes in the cold October almost-morning air, but it’s not enough to get any relief. Xabi is out a few seconds later, looking so calm that it’s almost unnerving.

-“Do you want to…”

Xabi’s not even sure how to finish the sentence, but Steven has other ideas anyway. He does want, he really does, so his mouth silences Xabi’s, drowning his words in a rushed kiss, desperate and needy, a placeholder for all the words he’d struggled not to say earlier. Xabi can hear them now. Their senses are taken over by years of yearning, wanting no more than feel the heat of their skin. Xabi’s ending the kiss because he needs the oxygen (a technicality), because he needs to see Steven’s face, look into his eyes and find… it. Find some meaning in all that blue about what’s suddenly blown up his life all over again.    

-“I’m taking you to my place, OK? We need… taxi… we need… oh _fuck,_ ”- Xabi’s not making much sense, but in his defence that’s no easy task. Not with Steven licking and biting his neck, not with Steven’s hand tugging at his shirt, not with his cold fingers sliding under it and across the skin of his back. His short nails are scraping the skin there and Xabi needs to push him away as much as he needs to pull him even closer because _fuck,_ there’s got to be a more comfortable place than the middle of the sidewalk to get fucked right now.

Technicalities. 

Steven tries to calm himself down and lets go Xabi, who is trying to push some much needed air through his lungs, his eyes glued to Steven’s the whole time. He starts to walk down the road mentally willing a taxi, any bloody taxi to swerve around the corner. Eventually one does. 

It’s a silent ride home. They’re not looking at each other. Steven’s fingers just ghost over the palm of Xabi’s hand until Xabi catches them and links them with his own.

Steven directs his gaze to Xabi’s profile, trying to find every freckle and every scar scattered somewhere on that pale skin, every detail he remembers even though he can’t expect to see in the lingering autumn darkness. He can stare and be creepy because Xabi’s not paying attention, he seems to find the street he lives on absolutely fascinating and Steven will gladly grab the opportunity with both hands. There are never too many memories of Xabi lost in his thoughts one can have, Steven’s sure of that.

-“Last building on the right,”- Xabi tells the driver and when the car stops he turns to Steven and with a slight smile, his eyes shining, he whispers: “This is it.”

 _It is indeed…_ Steven echoes it to himself.

 

~.~

The key is stuck in the lock. Xabi curses for the tenth time in his attempt to open the door, refusing to acknowledge that his trembling hands are probably not helping. He tries and fails again, which is unsurprising, given that Steven is on a mission to unzip his trousers and slide his hands past the elastic of his underwear. It’s a successful mission. Xabi rests his forehead on the cool wood of the door, trying hard not to think of insomniac, pathologically curious Mrs. Galbraith from across the hall.  If she’s up snooping around at this hour, maybe she deserves the sight of Xabi enjoying the feeling of Steven’s hand stroking him with slow movements, just the way he likes it. Oh please let her have a good angle of Steven biting into the nape of his neck, Xabi thinks. The hallway’s definitely quiet enough for Xabi’s nonsense mumbling elicited by every flick of Steven’s wrist to travel quite far.

-“Fuck… Steven please… let me… open the door.”

This is the first full sentence Xabi can finally mutter, but Steven is having none of it. Instead, he yanks Xabi by his collar, turns him around, pins him to the door with his mouth and kisses him so hard, he’s worried he might literally devour him. Steven never stops stroking him in the meantime. It’s been a long, long time since he’s wanted someone this much and it was Xabi. Still is and Steven knows he’s doomed to only want one person like this for as long as he lives.

The realization finds Steven even through the heated cloud engulfing him right now. It’s not just that he needs this so much; of course it’s different to all the times he’s just imagined it, but sought sex as release and enjoyed the one he was with, if he couldn’t have the one he wanted. That he can rationalize. What’s somewhat alarming is how addictive sex with this one person can be, the one that can make this flare of want reach unbearable levels. It’s a different kind of need. He needs Xabi urgently, desperately. If he’s going to stray from the path that’s so obviously meant for him, Steven needs a tangible reason.  He’s always been hard to convince.

And right now, when he’s looking  in Xabi’s darkened eyes and can feel Xabi’s chest heaving under his, Steven has no doubt this is what he wants in this moment. And probably later.

Probably…

Steven grabs the forgotten keys from Xabi’s hand and with a swift movement he opens the door from his first attempt, his eyes fixed on Xabi’s the whole time. He gives the keys back and makes just enough room for Xabi to step inside of his apartment, never loosening his grip to Xabi’s waist and once they’re inside, their movements are like a very well-practiced  dance.

Layers of clothes are tracing the path to the stairs, Xabi leading him through the darkness. They trip over the stairs, their laughter followed by ragged gasps for air the only sounds piercing through the night. They’re already naked when they finally fall on Xabi’s bed. He’s always loved big beds, a necessity given his restless sleep. When they were together, Steven eventually got used to being ambushed in the middle of the night by a painful leg kick, an elbow to the face or ribs, or wherever Xabi could strike a blow. Luckily, there was an upside to sharing a bed with Xabi in the first place, but big beds were Steven’s salvation.

And this is a massive bed.

Xabi worries that he’ll have to find a new one pretty soon, or that he’ll have to replace the headboard if he doesn’t stop gripping it so hard, he can almost hear the bars ripped apart under his fingers. He’s trying to move his hips, desperately seeking release, but he’s trapped between the mattress and Steven’s body lying across his back. He hisses with every bite on the nape of his neck and gaps with every thrust of Steven’s hips. He’ll be bruised tomorrow, no doubt about it, bluish purple marks on his wrist, neck and waist. Steven is fucking him so hard and he’s loving every minute of being wanted this much.      

-“Let me see your face… just let me…,”- Xabi manages to say and Steven stops and lets Xabi turn around and face him.

They share a hard, slow, breathtaking kiss that makes Steven lose all sense of direction. And isn’t until Xabi helpfully wraps his legs around Steven’s waist and starts to move his hips that he slides again inside the Spaniard. He can’t hold it for too much longer, he’s trying, but it’s a losing battle for both of them. He can see it on Xabi’s face and feel it in the frantic movements of his hand which he pushes away to replace with his own in a rhythm as erratic as the movement of his hips. The way Xabi moans his name against his skin makes Steven lose himself completely consumed by the unbelievable pleasure, but he tries to regain some strength and make Xabi come. Not that it takes too much by now, a few flicks of his wrist and Xabi is biting hard into his collarbone, a none too gentle reminder of where he belongs.

He missed this, missed everything… and he can’t avoid saying it any longer.    

-“Fuck, I missed you, Xabi… _missed_ you so much…”

It feels like _I love you_.

-“I know,”- Xabi whispers in his ear, heart in his throat - “I know, me too.”

He wraps his arms tighter against Steven, kisses his cheek, his neck, breathing him. They fall asleep almost instantly, facing each other, Xabi’s arm around Steven waist.

The sunrise is tracing patches of oranges and yellows in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fragment in the beggining belongs to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0CXVjR9-vI
> 
> I'm so done with the link stuff... I CAN'T EVEN!!


	9. And from there on, everything is definitely so easy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they fight and fuck... and the dishes are done later.

~.~

“ _We’re half-awake in a fake empire…”_

~.~

 

**6 years earlier…**

_Steven’s saying goodbye to Dan and Martin by the front door. They spent a good part of the afternoon moving Steven’s things to his new flat, an exercise in spending most of the afternoon indulging in beer and pizza in the flat since Steven only has a couple of boxes and two big suitcases with all his clothes, on top of most of his stuff he’d previously brought in with Xabi’s help. Dan teases Steven about being an official, by the letter, yuppie now, complete with chic apartment and in the near future minimalistic (for sure) furniture, considering his boyfriend's tastes. He whispers “Please, let him do the decorating…” before he goes. Martin just chuckles at it, possibly imagining Steven buying drapes, and Steven sees both of them out with his middle finger up in the air and a smile on his face._

_He goes upstairs, inhaling the new place smell, the aroma of second floor in the heart of East London. The rent is not cheap at all, but he’s got a job that pays well enough to give him the liberty to rent a place in this part of the city. It’s a small flat, but it suits him, according to Xabi’s verdict when they went to look at it._

_Before Harry decided to pop the question to Sheree, which Steven still suspects was done under duress, they shared an even smaller flat for a while after graduation, so Steven’s glad to have a bit more space for himself._

_Settled in London after university wasn’t exactly where he’d seen himself in the immediate future, but Steven’s learning that there’s certain rungs up the ladder you just can’t skip in your career and when it comes down to it, it’s not too bad at all. He actually likes his job, he’s still learning a lot and he can wait for his big opportunity. He’s patient enough. And there’s… Xabi; and that’s a good enough reason for Steven to be seriously contemplating his priorities. He knows for a fact that he wants Xabi in his life, in this present. Steven feels secretly relieved that he doesn’t need to reconcile Xabi with his professional ambitions. Mostly because there’s nothing irresistible enough to at least make him think about it... yet._

_He’s not waiting for such a break either… yet._

_For his reassurance, having a sight of Xabi walking barefoot around his apartment, hands on his hips, probably mentally decorating it right now… Steven actually can have this every day from here on and not regret anything. He’s actually convinced of that._

_He closes the door and Xabi turns his gaze to him, hands now in his pockets, the look in his eyes reflecting on what it seems to be an important announcement, like he’s measuring his words before letting them slip from his mouth._

_-“You definitely need a big couch.”_

_The quietness of the place is slightly interrupted by Steven’s laughter._

_-“What? I’m serious; you have too much empty space. You need a sofa and a coffee table.”_

_-“Why do I need those things for? I like having empty space instead of all of Harry’s shit piled up everywhere for a change,”- Steven says while Xabi walks to him and circles his waist with his arms, hiding his face into Steven’s neck._

_-“Well if you need a practical reason, we can fuck on the sofa.”_

_-“And the coffee table?”_

_-“Probably not sturdy enough. Isn’t it obvious, Esteban Jorge? That’s for coffee!” - Xabi’s mumbling into the skin of his neck tickles Steven._

_-“I’ll think about it.”_

_-“I’ll buy the sofa. It’ll be my open house gift for you,”- Xabi looks at his boyfriend as his whole face stretches into a smile._

_-“Ok then…”- They share a kiss before Xabi walks to the boxes and start to open one of it._

_-“And you need a bookshelf too. Where are you going to put these?”_

_Steven’s stopped paying attention the moment he’s parted with Xabi’s lips. He’s grabbing from his pocket another set of keys, fiddling with the key ring hard enough to drive it into the skin of his palm._

_-“Steven?”_

_-“Just leave it there.”_

_-“Ok, but what about the other box? I think that’s the stuff for your bedroom,”- Xabi says and Steven thinks_ fuck it _and throws him the keys. Xabi catches them in mid-air._

_-“We’ll worry about that later, once you move your stuff in here.”_

_Xabi blinks a couple of times then stares at the set of keys in his hand and then back to Steven._

_-“It’s close to the University and to your magazine office too. And you’d probably spend most of your free time here anyway. I know that’s not a problem for your Dad, but why pay for a dorm that’s not getting much use anyway?”_

_-“Are you really sure about this Steven?”_

_He walks over to Xabi and kisses him hard by way of an answer. It’s what he wants now._

_And that’s it._

_That’s it all it takes for Xabi to convince himself that it’s enough to believe in what you want to believe._

_Xabi feels the air escaping from his lungs at last after who knows how long. He feels like he lost a stone off his shoulders and from the look that Steven gives to him, he’s fairly sure that Steven was not blind to the thoughts that were weighing him down lately. He starts to kiss Steven back with the same heated intent._

_-"We definitely need a sofa then.”_

_Steven chuckles against Xabi’s mouth, hands under his sweater, the warmth of Xabi’s skin enveloping him in instant comfort._

_He has a home now, with Xabi. And it feels so right._

~.~ 

Steven lazily drags his feet down the stairs to the kitchen, his body still shaking off the last traces of too many hours of sleep. The only reason he’s mustered enough energy to shuffle out of bed is the divine smell of coffee and toast drifting in from the kitchen. The growling in his stomach is the only thing separating him from the prospect of spending a whole day in bed for the first time in years. Or what’s left of the day anyway since it’s actually mid-morning.

He’s wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt he’d found waiting for him in the bathroom, courtesy of Xabi. The clothes he was wearing the night before and which had been discarded and carelessly tossed around the apartment are now properly folded and placed on a chair in Xabi’s bedroom. Everything is spotless, except for the bed and Steven almost feels ashamed for leaving it unmade. Almost.

Some things truly never change.

Steven doesn’t count making the bed among his habits, which in another lifetime had led to plenty of arguments when Xabi moved in with him. It’s not like Steven’s a complete slob by any means, but Xabi takes being a neat freak to a new, sometimes exasperating level that didn’t make sharing living space with him a walk in the park. Steven figures some compulsive behaviours are obviously impossible to change, judging by what he sees on his way to the kitchen.

When he gets there, he’s reminded why putting up with Xabi’s OCD didn’t require that much of an effort anyway. Xabi’s seated at his kitchen table with a mug of black brew, reading the newspaper. His shoes are discarded under the table, his bare feet resting on the floor tiles. No matter the weather, no matter if it’s -40 degrees or humid English Novembers, Xabi would walk barefoot through his apartment if the floors were made out of the melting polar icecaps.

-“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” Steven says, biting his lip to swallow his smile. Xabi’s startled from his morning news, but when looks up and fucking beams...

Steven knows he’s fucked from now and always, till the end of time.

Irreversibly fucked.

-“Last time you were threatening me with bronchitis.”

-“If you ask me, this weather can give you the worst pneumonia ever, my God. And it’s just autumn.”

Xabi fills up a waiting mug with practiced ease and offers it to Steven, who’s getting very cosy standing between his legs, hands slipping under Xabi’s very fluffy and very warm grey sweeter, and breathing content into Xabi’s neck.

It’s so easy to fall again into this routine… so damn easy.

-“Morning, Steven… Did you sleep well?”

-“I did… thank you very much for asking.”

-“Are you hungry? I made Tortilla Española…”

Steven’s bent back straightens like a rod, leaving Xabi missing his touches under the sweater. 

-“You made Tortilla?!?”- he exclaims, eyes wide and voice high-pitched - “Do you have any idea how desperate I was for it? I even tried to make it myself, that’s how bad.”

-“But you’re awful in the kitchen…”

-“Unmitigated disaster, yeah, but I missed it so I had to try… I’ve had worse, but not by much. Did you really make it?”

-“Yes, want some?”

Suddenly it feels so quiet, Steven’s just looking him like he’s missed every little detail in the lines of his face and the movement of his hands over coffee mugs over these past 4 years and he’s taking it all in again. He lifts Xabi from the chair and hugs him hard though not enough to hurt. He doesn’t want to crush his bones, although if he could, he really wants to just crawl inside him and stay there.

Well, Steven has both ideas and experience in how to approximate the sensation in a non-metaphorical way. He remembers what it feels like and he feels it right now.

So fucking… right.

The prospect suddenly frightens him a bit, but Xabi’s reassuring touches quell Steven’s nerves and unleash a different kind of hunger in him. He’s pushing Xabi towards the couch, his laughter filling the living room. His voice changes pretty soon to a deeper, raspier and more desperate register and Steven gets his wish granted.

And from there on, everything is definitely so easy.      

              

~.~ 

A month later and Steven’s spent most of his free time in Xabi’s flat. His four suits, six pairs of jeans, stack of shirts and t-shirts, four pairs of shoes (including his running shoes) most of the underwear, socks, sweatpants, laptop, cologne… he’s practically moved into Xabi’s place.

He doesn’t have a fucking clue how that happened.

One thing is certain: he loves Xabi’s place. It’s a big apartment, allowing Xabi privacy for his studio and a pantry for the many spices and fifteen different types of sausage his friends bring him from Spain. The incorporated kitchen is the best part of the flat, Steven’s favourite place.

Steven finds that overtime is less and less a part of his routine. Sometimes he catches Xabi for lunch near the University or in their old cafeteria, the latter mostly lately. He likes having lunch there, even though it makes him feel old. Some days he spots Xabi deep in conversation with “Germany’s best export since David Hasselhoff”. Professor Klopp is still charming in his goofy way, with his utopic ideas of the world and his brightest smile, only his hairline’s migrated a little. Steven still teases Xabi about him, but he’d be hard pressed to find a reason _not_ to have a mancrush on the German and Steven’s only human himself.

At home - (it feels like home anyway) - at Xabi’s, they mostly park themselves on the sofa for dinner or a movie, disagreeing on each other’s movie choice as a matter of principle. Depending on how much Scandinavian expressionism is involved when it’s Xabi’s turn, they fight for anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour and fuck for the rest of the night.

Some nights, their arguments reach new bitchiness levels that are a little too high even for their standards, like when they watch Heat and start treading on the minefield of De Niro vs. Pacino comparisons.  

-“He directed Looking for Richard!”  

-“So what? De Niro made A Bronx Tale,”- Steven strikes back at Xabi, utterly sure that he got this.

-“You have to admit the man has a spotty track record! Having Ben Stiller, a moose and a flying squirrel in your bright career… I mean, was that really necessary? A flying squirrel?”

-“Because having Bennifer in your fucking brilliant record is such a fantastic idea, right?”

Here Xabi looks lost.

-“What the fuck is a Bennifer?”

 _Oh fuck…_ it’s all Steven can think.

-“You know… Bennifer…”

-“No… I don’t." 

-“Uh… Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck… Bennifer.”

 _This is it…_  

Xabi effectively waves the red flag by sinking back on the couch, hands on his sides, and he starts to laugh hysterically until he’s beetroot red in the face. Steven thinks the five minutes it takes him to recover and breathe properly again last an eternity.

-“Wow, I definitely need to make better use of my time… I feel like such an uncultured swine, how could I miss that?”

-“Fuck you!”

-“Fuck me…”

-“Not if you’re going to keep insisting that Pacino is better than De Niro.”

-“Not that I believe that, but I’ll grant you that the Bennifer… it’s unbeatable and you actually look really and unbelievably fucking hot in those shorts…”

-“…”

Steven slides between Xabi’s legs, his grin mischievous and Xabi’s a little too impatient trying to rid him of whatever clothes he can get hold of.

-“You’re so easy Xabs. So, so easy!”

-“And you fucking love it so shut up and just… _fuck_ …”

Incoherence is the only thing escaping from Xabi’s mouth while Steven’s mouth is full busy on him. The last half-articulate thought Xabi’ll remember from the rest of the night is: _what else do you expect me to be around you when you’re like this?_

 

~.~

They have the guys over for dinner and beers at least once a week and most Saturdays. Esteban makes a delicious _callos a la madrileña_ and Juan is the official bartender with a seemingly endless cocktail recipe book. He also tries to teach Daniel, Martin and Steven Parchís. They all complain about Steven’s beginner’s luck, especially Daniel, whom Juan declares an absolute catastrophe. Steven gloats that the game simply requires an engineer’s precision; his hubris comes to back to bite him in the ass when Daniel cleans them out at poker. ( _Twats!_ )

They’re on their best behaviour at the birthday party Daniel throws for his son, even though Esteban, Xabi and Martin are all on different levels of terror during the entire event. Esteban is on TERROR ALERT red with Xabi not far behind him when they see their respective partners with at least two toddlers clinging to their legs at all times and having the time of their lives playing with water guns. It’s disturbingly difficult to pick out the adults in the crowd.

Xabi is trapped between wanting to run far, far away and the need to grab Steven on his way out and hold on tight. It’s a lot more clear cut for Esteban - he just wants to flee.

That night at home – at his flat- Xabi can’t sleep; Steven’s passed out snoring lightly, still smelling of birthday cake frosting and skinned knees and well, sure, it’s corny as hell to watch him sleep with a crooked smile on his face, but Xabi will let himself just this once when nobody can see him.

He makes no move to get into a more comfortable position until he falls asleep.  

Steven wakes him up a couple of hours later, nibbling along his jaw.

They spend a good part of the day under the covers.

It’s Sunday, it’s been any given Sunday for months now.

 

 

~.~

_A warning sing…_

~.~ 

Ultimately, it goes like this: Steven feels happy. Stupidly, overwhelmingly happy.

He knows Xabi’s happy too.

And he also knows that theoretically it’s too good to be true. 

Because in reality he’s just been promoted to Lead Coordinator of Technical Sales of his company, which means he’ll be permanently relocated to the US headquarters.

Three hours later, Steven’s still digesting the news. Mr. Rush personally called him into his office to shake his hand, congratulating Steven while his soon to be former boss, Mr. Rodgers, beamed proudly by his side. Steven took the envelope with trembling hands, said _thank you_ and closed his office door behind him with his last ounce of energy before he slumped into his chair.

It’s not like he didn’t know that this would be a possibility. Of course he’s known it all along, from the moment he’d stepped onto the tarmac at Heathrow. Steven won’t lie to himself that another possibility was also at the back of his mind when he came back to London, he knew that chances were he’d see Xabi again. Being careful what you wish for had somehow escaped his mind.

Steven’s been here before and knew exactly what decision to make, knew what was best for him, screw what felt right or fair; that decision was made way before he’d ever met Xabi. And it had still ripped a part of him open to just stick to it.

It’s different this time.

Professionally speaking, it’s a hell of an opportunity. Being in charge of the whole department in the States, earning a lot of money and just one step from the Board? Before you’re even 35?  If you’re not too stupid or crazy to say no, of course. Or if you have the most remote suspicion that it’s not what you really want…

Steven suddenly doesn’t know what he really wants and it’s killing him. He’s not like this, ever.

It’s almost 6; Xabi’s probably waiting for him.

He takes his cell phone and calls him.

-“I need to finish something here…”

-“ _No te preocupes, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you._ ”

If there was ever a motto for their relationship…

Steven hangs up the call and turns back to look out of the window. He stares into the London skyline for three hours straight.

He feels like he’s right back to the start… everything in his hands again.

And he can’t afford to make a mistake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake empire... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KehwyWmXr3U
> 
> You probably know about Warning Sign right??
> 
> Glad to be back, buuuussssyyy times but there's only two chapters more so... and I'm working in the next one so...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading... this is so much fun!!


	10. "You were right about one thing. I always knew you’d leave one day"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year... and christmas... and happy birthday (if it's someone's birthday).  
> I want to apologize for the long "break"... it wasn't a break. First hollidays and then work got me all busy and this chapter wasn't easy to write. But here's it!! And again... gracias querida por ser mi beta!!
> 
> Only one more chapter...

~.~

_“…I was far away_  
you just walked away  
and I just watched you”

~.~

 

**_4 years earlier_**  

_Steven’s been watching the rain for what seems like ages. He sits on the sofa staring at the paths traced by dirty raindrops on the glass door, idly calculating their trajectories and speed. It keeps a part of his brain from waging war on the other part, the one that’s stuck on pushing him into facing a moment he’s been dreading for four days. That’s how long it’s been since he accepted a job offer that seemed too good to be true. An offer he couldn’t refuse. It’s what he’s been looking for since graduation, what he’s wanted ever since he decided to study engineering, it’s only his dream. No big deal._

_But he feels pulled apart from the inside._

_Not that he wavered for a second before he accepted the big offer. On the contrary, he’d accepted it without a hint of doubt, probably blinded by the excitement of finally seeing it before his eyes. He hadn’t planned this as meticulously as he might have expected. When he’d sent his résumé 4 months ago it was just a let’s see what happens type of shot in the dark. He has a job, a relatively good one where he’s learning a lot every day. But it’s not enough, it never was. And now that one of the big guys are looking for a young mechanical engineer to be a technical vendor in the oil countries in the Americas Steven can’t resist the intense urge to be that person, something that’s always been his real purpose. Suddenly, the “let’s see what happens” turns out to be his big chance._

_The problem is, he’s failed to mention any of it to Xabi._

_To say that this is what’s bothering Steven is a bit of an understatement. He can neither sleep properly at night because of it, nor enjoy the news with all the sense of happiness and accomplishment it actually deserves. He’s can’t be happy about it, not when he knows that he made a mistake by not telling Xabi. It’s a price to pay for hiding from the consequences, which Steven doesn’t want to deal with, not even in theory. He’s sacrificing his relationship for a job, which to some people might seem like a pretty selfish thing to do. Most people aren’t Steven and haven’t worked for it as hard as Steven has. He made a promise to himself; he knows he can do this. He needs to do this and he’s wishing with all his heart that Xabi can understand._

_He really hopes he will._

_The door is unlocked and Xabi enters to the flat with his small suitcase, his raincoat overwhelmed by the downpour to the point where he’s dripping all over the floor. He was away visiting his family in San Sebastian. Steven didn’t go because of work (which it was true) and while Xabi was with his family, his partner’s life was turning 180º. How appropriate to be receiving that call precisely in these days, Steven thought. Apparently the universe was conspiring to make him look like a complete bastard to Xabi._

_He stands up from the couch and walks to Xabi who starts beaming at him, bright and fucking gorgeous and Steven’s heart’s in his throat just like that, paralyzed with fear._

_He hides his face in Xabi’s neck while he’s hugging him hard enough to crush him._

_-“Hey! I missed you too” - Xabi whispers in his hear. Steven closes his eyes and breaths him in deeply. He can’t look up, can’t take Xabi’s eyes on him or he might crumble._

_Xabi gives Steven a gentle shove just to look at him. Steven tries hard to look normal, but his smile lands awkwardly on a stranger’s face. Xabi flinches. It’s almost imperceptible, but Steven catches it. He disguises his anxiety with a gentle kiss._

_-“How’s the family?”- Steven manages to say, busying himself with getting Xabi’s suitcase out of the way while Xabi’s taking off his soaked coat and shoes._

_-“They’re great. Mother packed the brioches you’re addicted to so you can stuff your face. What have you been up to?”_

_-“Nothing much”- Steven calls from the kitchen as he starts fiddling with the kettle Tea. Tea seems like a good idea. He can hear his heartbeat and the adrenaline running through his veins. If he’s busy enough with making the perfect cup of tea, he doesn’t have to look at Xabi sitting at the kitchen table, watching him intently._

_Xabi can definitely sense that something is wrong. He doesn’t know why (or maybe he does) but he’s fairly sure he’s not going to like it, whatever it is. He knows Steven so well, he knows when something is bothering him or causing him so much stress. Unlike Xabi, Steven is transparent and he’s practically glowing green from anxiety right now._

_-“Are you sure?”_

_The mugs are aligned on the table while the water starts to boil. Steven’s eyes are everywhere but on Xabi._

_-“Yeah, just a hard day at work. Sorry, I’m bit tired that’s all.”_

_Xabi watches the water fill the mugs and the tea colouring it._

_-“Steven, just tell me…”_

_-“What?”_

_-“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”_

_-“I just told you, just an off day at the office.”_

_-“Bullshit. Don’t you think I know you better than that by now?”_

_Xabi doesn’t do annoyed and impatient at the drop of a hat, Steven knows that there’s nothing he can do to divert his attention. He tries to regain some courage, takes a deep breath and finally looks Xabi in the eyes. Xabi is watching him with a confused look laced with raw trust, like whatever Steven’s going to say it would all turn out OK in the end. They’re going to be OK._

_It’s all a bit too much for Steven to take now._

_-“I quit my job today”_

_-“You quit your job?”_

_-“Yes.”_

_-“Why?”_

_Xabi’s heart starts to race wildly in his ribcage. Steven fixes his eyes on the mugs and then he just lets the words slip out his mouth._

_-“Because I got an offer to work in America… and I took it.”_

_The silence falls heavily around them and when Steven directs his eyes to Xabi he starts to wish he didn’t. He can’t stand the sadness he’s put in those eyes._

_-“I’m sorry, I just… I’m sorry.”_

_-“Were you sorry when you said yes?”_

_Xabi’s voice sounds weird even for him. It sounds broken, falling through the cracks of the composure he’s fighting to maintain._

_-“Xabi, I… I couldn’t say no… I couldn’t.”_

_-“No, don’t do this. I know how much you wanted this since forever ago, I always knew it. Don’t tell me now that you’re sorry. You didn’t say no because you didn’t_ want _to say no.”_

_-“I’m sorry because I’m letting you down”- Steven says and they both know it’s true._

_-“You’re… fuck you!”- Xabi spits bitterly, pushing the chair so he can rush closer to Steven. -“You didn’t even bother to tell me, you took the decision by yourself!”_

_-“If you say that you knew it all along, then you know that this is important to me.”_

_-“How come everything is about you? What about me? What about what_ I _want?!?”_

_-“I can’t be part of what you want, not while knowing this is probably the only shot I get…”_

_-“Then why ask me to move in with you?”_

_Well… Steven has no answer to that. Or rather he has, but he can’t say it. He suddenly feels so tired and sad and hating all this. He can’t bear to hurt Xabi like this, no matter how much he hurts himself._

_-“I’ll answer it for you… you asked me to live with you because you’re a selfish bastard who wants to have it all. Until you get your fucking dream job and flee. That’s why!”- He watches Steven in silence then heads for the hallway - “It doesn’t take an engineering degree to put the pieces together, does it?”_

_He takes his raincoat, his shoes and slams the door shut leaving Steven more alone than he’s ever felt before._

_He suddenly regrets everything and wants to take it all back._

~.~

_… what could I say  
How close am I?_

_to losing you…”_

~.~

_Steven startles when he hears the front door unlocked and footsteps in the flat. He dozed off on the sofa an hour ago, unsure of whether he had anything to wait for anymore. He squints at his mobile - 1 AM. It’s still pouring outside and Xabi’s all wet but he couldn’t care less. His jacket lands on the floor next to his useless raincoat and his shoes. Steven is watching him from the sofa and notices the sluggishness of Xabi’s movements. He gets up to help him and can smell the cloud of alcohol he’s swimming in, but Xabi sweeps his hand away like an annoying insect. With some difficulty he tries to stand up straight and walks to the bedroom but Steven blocks his way. He rests a hand in Xabi’s chest stopping him. Xabi doesn’t say or do anything._

_-“Xabs, please… I need you to listen…”_

_-“I don’t give a shit about what you need. I don’t want to listen to any of it.”_

_-“Do you think this is easy for me? A… a fucking formality? It’s not, Xabi, believe me. It’s killing me doing this to us, but tomorrow… if I stay… I’ll be regretting it, I’ll be regretting it and probably I’ll resent you… and I don’t want that.”_

_Xabi realizes he’s not drunk enough for this. He looks wrecked. His voice is like a whisper when he lets the words fall from his mouth._

_-“You should’ve never asked me to move in with you knowing that this could happen.”_

_-“I’m sorry.”_

_-“Me too, Steven.”_

_It’s only when their eyes met that Steven felt the weight of his decision crush them like an avalanche._

_He just wants to erase that look, to take away all the hurt he’s put there._

_Xabi is boneless in his arms._

_Steven starts to kiss him, forgiveness asked in every breath. It tastes bittersweet._

_Xabi lets himself get lost in him, just this time. He lets Steven take everything he can give and every thrust of Steven’s hips suddenly enrages him and he just wants Steven to hurt as much as he’s hurt him.  He starts to scratch his back so hard and Steven hisses in pain, the soft skin of his back marked by angry red lines._

_Steven tries to stop him but Xabi’s blinded by rage. He starts to get angry too._

_His thrusts are more aggressive and harder._

_Xabi’s all moans and cries now, defeated at last. After he comes hard still dizzy with loss of control, everything sinks deep in him and with Steven still thrusting now erratically inside him, he feels the tears falling down his cheeks. He can’t let Steven see them._

_He buries his face in Steven’s neck, holding him in his trance. And then he kisses him until the salty taste vanishes in their mouths. Steven doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes and watch him._

_They don’t talk anymore. Steven falls asleep after a while._

_Xabi stares quietly at the ceiling for the rest of night._

_When Steven wakes up in the morning, Xabi’s dressed standing next to the window staring ahead._

_-“Xabier?”_

_Xabi turns around, facing him._

_-“Some day you’ll realize that I was your best…”_

_He never heard the next words. Xabi was suddenly out of them, staring right through the wall and then next to Steven’s eyes, a sad smile sprayed on his face._

_-“You were right about one thing. I always knew you’d leave one day. Not like I ever had the right to think that you were going to stay here with me. But… I guess I just clung to… this stupid hope that you chose to be with me and I let you get away with it. I gave you everything and now… I guess this is it.”_

_Steven watches Xabi take his suitcase and leave the bedroom._

_When he hears the door shut, he closes his eyes and has no control of himself anymore._

_Two weeks later he lands on the former Houston International Airport._

_He never said goodbye to Xabi._

_Xabi wouldn’t let him._

~.~

_“Oh please don’t go…”_

~.~ 

-“Still obsessing over those?”

Xabi sighs with a smile, it’s all the admission anybody’s getting out of him. This isn’t the first time Steven’s come home to find Xabi hovering over the same set of pictures sprayed all over his work table (“It’s _organized_ chaos. They didn’t teach you that in physics?”) He’s holding a picture in each hand at arm’s length, staring at them hard enough to bore holes into them.

-“I don’t think that I’m going to be satisfied with this series anytime soon to be honest. You’re late, by the way. Too much work?”- Xabi asks distractedly, going back to his photographs. Steven circles his arms around Xabi’s waist and sprinkles soft kisses on his neck.

-“As always. Three hours of arguing with a bunch of knobheads in a meeting and then I had to finish some things before I could get out.”

-“Did you eat? I left some food in the oven if you want”- Xabi says, still riveted by his pictures despite Steven’s hands starting to roam under Xabi’s shirt while he’s nibbling his neck.

-“I’m not hungry.”

-“Mmmmm…”

-“I like that one!”

-“This one?”

-“Yeah, I like how you got the light, shining right over the fountain. The effect looks very cool.”

Xabi puts the photos on the table and takes another one to show it to Steven.

-“What about this one?”

Steven rests his chin on Xabi’s shoulder and doesn’t ask who this Xabi is and what has he done to his boyfriend who won’t even trust Steven to pick his own shirts for work. He won’t risk losing all this warm skin for his hands to enjoy.

-“This one’s beautiful too, but kind of… gloomy.”

-“Gloomy?”   

-“I love the light in your pictures; it’s your… thing. This one’s so one-tone…. it’s like adding one more to the pile of depressing images from gloomy artists who’re trying too hard to be miserable sods.”

Steven’s interrupted by Xabi’s chuckles while the photograph is settled on the table.

-“I love how you try to sound pretentious about art. You’re almost as bitchy about it as Esteban.”

-“We’re both distinguished gentlemen with exquisite taste. And this is a great series, Xabs, I already told you.”

Xabi turns around, still in Steven’s arms. Steven just stares at him in silence, his mind reeling with the previous events of the day, trying to cope (at least theoretically) with the consequences of any decision he would make. He spent all the afternoon evaluating his options, which he’s narrowed down to two, and this crazy idea of Xabi in the States with him. It truly seems crazy because Xabi loves London so much that Steven can’t gather the strength to actually ask him to go to Texas with him. He feels that he has no right to even mention it and more importantly he doesn’t want to push him into that corner.

Steven isn’t even sure if _he_ wants to go at all.

Xabi can tell almost instantly that something is bothering Steven. His silences always give way to his mannerisms and those are practically a crystal bowl to Xabi. He knows it’s time to worry when he sees how hard Steven avoids eye contact, hiding his face in Xabi’s neck, his grip tightening around Xabi’s body. The way Steven kisses his neck is daunting, how the hands under his shirt are grabbing any inch of his skin they can find, how determined Steven is to make him feel completely lost in his touches… Xabi’s always laughed at Steven’s methods to distract him. So fucking childish.

The worst part is that it never fails to work.

And even now when his brain just _knows_ there’s something far, far more important at work here, the trick stills works. Xabi tries put up a dignified fight against the heat in Steven’s kisses, but it’s too overwhelming to even think to stop. It’s like the man is trying to say something in every breath, to show it in every grazing on his skin and Xabi has to surrender.

If this is the way that Steven prefers to talk, Xabi has no intention to top him. It’s the most honest and open way in which Steven knows how to express himself.  

Xabi remembers too well when this happened before. That’s why it scares him so much now. _Again…_ He know that last time Steven was saying _I’m sorry_ and _Goodbye_ and _I’ll miss you so fucking much._ The thought alone make him shudder. Now it’s like Steven’s trying to convincing himself of whatever it is that he’s not sure about.  

Xabi tries to not read too much into what’s happening.

He fails.

He hopes.

Xabi can take a page out of Steven’s book to show him what he wants. He gives everything he has to give in every kiss back. He starts to undress Steven without once stopping the torrent of needy kisses, knocking the breath out of him.

_If this is what you need then…_

That’s all Xabi can think of, the whole way to his bedroom, to _their_ bed, to the cool sheets under his back. He’s almost whispering it in Steven’s ear but then again there’s no need to mention it. He’s got the words trapped between his lips and Steven’s. It’ll be no less painful to see him walk away again. The first time he accepted it given the circumstances.   

This time it’ll be cruel as hell.

He tries to avoid any thinking process, to focus on the heat of Steven’s skin and brace himself for what is coming next. And fucking God, he can’t understand how the hell there can be any doubt in Steven’s mind because if _this_ is not what he wants then how come every cell in Steven’s body is burning up so much energy to show otherwise?

The lust replaces any rational thought in Xabi. He decides that it’s better, not to mention easier, to just ride the irresistible wave of lust and leave the weight of whatever choice there is to be made to Steven. There’s nothing he can do other than be there in the way that Steven wants.

He feels Steven go still, buried deep inside him and he’s dizzy with hunger and need.

-“Don’t move”- Steven whispers, holding Xabi by his hips hard enough to bruise him. 

-“But…”

-“Just don’t!”- He's staring so intently at Xabi, pleading with his eyes so he won’t have to say anything else.

Xabi smiles quietly, bringing his hand up to rest on Steven’s cheek.

-“Just say it.”

-“Say what?”

-“Whatever’s in your eyes that you’re too scared to say out loud.”

Steven stays still, holding his eyes on Xabi’s. And he can’t. He won’t.

He chooses to kiss him instead, breathtakingly hard. He chooses to move again to finish what he started. 

Xabi’s a beautiful mess underneath him.

He’s not far behind him. And when he lets his body fall over Xabi he feels a hard grip on his waist and strong arms around his back. Xabi’s holding him like his life depends on it, like he’s worried he could vanish any moment.

Steven kisses him tenderly, until Xabi’s limbs loosen around him. Xabi falls asleep still holding him and Steven spends the night watching him.

Towards dawn, Steven suddenly feels that he knows exactly what he has to do. He kisses Xabi’s forehead and tries to sleep at least for a little while.

He can’t.

When Xabi wakes up early in the morning, he’s alone. Steven’s gone. He sits up on his bed and breathes deep, closing his eyes. He decides that it’s too early to get up and start the day. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything just yet. He hides his face back into the pillow and it smells like Steven.

There’s a familiar ache in his chest.

It’ll be fucking cruel this time.

But he prefers to just wait.

He gets up and 20 minutes later the flat smells of fresh coffee.

Steven’s keys are on the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song of the first part of the chapter... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aND9tamOOq8
> 
> and the song of the second part on the chapter... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COqx-TCxrSk
> 
> Thanks for reading and for the waiting!!


	11. Guess you’ve got the perfect light for it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartfelt confession

~.~

**_8 years earlier_ **

_Xabi is hiding from the bone-chilling reality of another January day inside his room. The wind blow through frosted trees in front of his window which sway against the grey backdrop of the sky. The scenery probably makes the air seem colder than it really is._

_His room is a little oasis of warmth and sunny beach days that seem to stretch out forever. He’s under the covers on his bed and also under a pile of books, photos and note cards. He’s taking a break from assignments, admiring the view outside the window, feeling grateful to be under a roof with heaters that do their job. He’s not really sure that’s the main source of warmth but as long as him and Steven are kept nice and toasty… Steven and his incessant mumbling about... Xabi doesn’t have a fucking clue what his mumbling translates to._

_Xabi turns on his side to get a better view of Steven’s profile, detailing the wrinkles on his forehead, his lips that move ever so softly when he reads, the intense focus on his old man face.  Xabi gets up from the bed as quietly as possible, takes his camera and, almost tiptoeing, returns to his studying nest. His precautions are unnecessary. Steven is so riveted by his book that he ignores Xabi’s very existence in the universe._

_Xabi raises his camera, adjusts the focus…_ click… click _._

_Steven stops mumbling at last. He starts to smile even though his eyes are firmly still trained on the book._

_-“Are you bored?”_

_-“Couldn’t miss that shot.”_

_-“Really?”_

_-“You look so… intellectual. Like you’re pondering the meaning of existence, of why are we here, what we are… Brains are sexy, you know…”_

_-“Shut it! It’s Heat Transfer,”- Steven says, voice tinged with misery -“I got a test next Friday. The Professor dumps 100 problems on us and every single one of them is giving me a fucking headache.”_

_Xabi lays down his camera on the bed, he moves towards his desk (more like Steven’s desk these days) and flips shut the book that’s deepening the lines on Steven’s forehead. Xabi can already see a couple of new ones beginning to form._

_Steven has every intention to put up a good fight. It’s just that as he’s about to start cursing, Xabi is already straddling him on the chair, his weight on Steven’s lap, his arms around his neck, licking his lips with the tip of his pink tongue._

_-“Forget about the theory. I think it’s time to for some practical experiments with heat transfer, no?”_

_Steven lets out a little giddy laughter on Xabi’s lips._

_-“Let’s see what it takes to get you all hot…” - Xabi has his hands under Steven’s t-shirt. He can feel the trail of goosebumps left on his boyfriend’s skin by his fingertips. Steven’s hands are on his hips, still chuckling, his mouth slowly making its way to Xabi’s ear._

_-“Mmmm, I can tell that we’re going to ace that test. Better than Fluid Mechanics.”_

_-“You were great at Fluid Mechanics.”_

_-“You weren’t bad either.”_

_-“Oh so modest, Alonso…”_

_-“No, I’m just being realistic… and fair”- Xabi pulls back a little to look at Steven’s face. There’s still a hint of strain in all that beautiful blue of his eyes - “You worry too much. You’ll be great, you always are.”_

_Steven gives him a small, shy smile because it’s true. He does worry too much. But he can’t stop worrying until he knows he can solve every single problem on the test, let alone pass it._

_If there’s one person in the world that can get his mind off engineering problems, it’s Xabi. Steven can’t even imagine that he could get through any of it without him. He’s become as much of a part of Steven’s motivation to work hard as he is a distraction because failure would feel like he’s failing Xabi too._

_-“Well, are you going to show me your practical methods of heat conduction from a sphere to a stagnant fluid?”_

_-“I absolutely got that, I’m the sphere.”_

_-“So that makes me the stagnant fluid?”_

_-“I don’t know… Whichever makes me the one who’ll be fucking you?”_

_Steven’s laughter echoes through the drum of the rain on the window. Xabi tries to keep his best game face on, in the name of science, but fails miserably._

_-“Uh, so that’s what this sudden interest in applied physics is all about, wanting to fuck me?”_

_-“I’m only trying to expand our knowledge of heat conduction… for the greater good.”_

_-“Just admit you want my ass.”_

_-“I want your hot ass!”_

_-“That’s more like it…”_

_It’s dark now, close to midnight. Xabi sleeps content in his bed, his face half shaded from the lamp on his desk. Steven is scribbling formulas and drawings in his notebook. From time to time his eyes drift to the sleeping man by his side, taking in the elegant lines of his body. He smiles and goes back to his notes._

_When Xabi wakes up at dawn, he sees Steven sleeping on the desk, his face buried in the book. He sighs, gets up and wakes up his boyfriend just enough to drag him to bed._

_They fall asleep instants later, legs intertwined._

_When the Heat Transfer exam results are in, Steven’s name is at the top of the list._

~.~

_I started looking and the bubble burst_

_I started looking for excuses_

~.~ 

Even though February days in London are often frigid, this sunny afternoon is a welcome exception. The days are visibly longer, the light is visibly bolder and falls at perfect angles as far as Xabi’s concerned. He sometimes forgets that the city has so much to offer in the most commonplace spots infested with tourists, but he’s determined to put it right. The masses in St. James’ Park float past his elegant form swathed in a dark grey coat as his gloved hands fix the tripod. There are kids running around, dogs barking and the inevitable tourists mishandling their expensive cameras. Xabi ignores them for once, taking in every detail of the huge canvas inviting him to find _the_ story to immortalize. There are so many colours on offer he’ll make sure the light will be imprinted on his pictures as someone would say.

If only Xabi could be sure that this someone will ever get to see them.

He takes a deep breath to give his brain at least an opportunity to stop overthinking everything for once.

Xabi points the camera towards the stairs leading to the park gazebo that’s framed by the fountain and a massive tree bending its leafless branches with the chilly wind. Xabi smiles knowing he’s found the perfect vantage point. He takes off the chamois gloves to focus the lens properly.

_Click…click_

Someone’s blocking his view two shots later.

-“Guess you’ve got the perfect light for it.”

Xabi inhales the cold air deeply before he straightens up in slow motion to face Steven. The camera is the only thing separating their bodies. Xabi recognizes the look in Steven’s eyes, it’s only one of many that send his blood on a mad gallop through his veins. It’s Steven’s turn to breathe in deep, leaning against the rail by the pond while Xabi moves the tripod away to make room and waits silently with his hands shoved in his pockets. He tries to ignore the way the sunlight lands on Steven’s face and hair, playing with the keys in his pocket to keep his hands from grabbing the camera for a quick shot while he still has the chance.

-“When I was thirteen I used to collect Popular Mechanics with this mate from school. We split the cost of the subscription and we’d spend hours trying to come up with our own experiments and ways to blow shit up in the most scientific way we could think of. One day I found this article about an oil engineer who invented a new oil drill. The way he talked about his job, about thrill of hitting a new well. It was just the coolest thing ever… It felt like getting to be that guy was all I wanted to do.

I started going to the library, collecting every article I could get my hands on about oil extraction, I used to daydream about all those exotic places on the map where I’d fly to... It was all that I wanted to do with myself and I focused all my effort on it. Well, you know how that went...

Then you just sort of… came along right in the middle of it, with your images of the world… your ideals, and I had no plans for you. I had no idea where we would fit in with any of it. It didn’t seem fair to ask you to put your own dreams aside. And I felt miserable because I couldn’t make it work.  I tried but it was stronger than me…”- Steven takes another deep breath before he can find some order in his thoughts.

-“I could do it the first time… push you aside and walk away. I was convinced that’s what was best for both of us at the time, that it was what was supposed to happen all along. I don’t regret what I’ve achieved, but…  I can’t- I can’t leave this time. I’ve already made my dreams come true, there’s no plan for what comes next. Only you. You’re the plan. And I want to work every bit as hard on life with you as I’ve worked on my career. I can’t say no to it, not this time… I don’t want to.”

Xabi’s been staring at him the whole time. It feels like he hasn’t even blinked or given any visible sign that he’s processing what’s happening. The truth is he’s not, not really. He’s caught up in wondering if falling in love with Steven as a grownass man, without any of the excuses the stupidity of youth affords is the healthy or smart thing to do. He’s not afraid to feel this way though because he’s never been surer of anything Steven’s ever said, except maybe for the choice words he has for Everton during derbies. He sees how careful and deliberate Steven is being, weighing every word just to make sure how much this means to him.

-“I was sure, so sure about what it’d mean to see you again. I was worried that you’d moved on or well… that you weren’t in the same place as I… you had every right to. But you were… you’re… Oh, fuck it. I really want to say fuck you but there you go. This is supposed to be my heartfelt confession and “fuck you” seems to be out of place right now, doesn’t it?”

The grin on Xabi’s face makes Steven instantly smile as well. And that’s it.

-“Well, I’m going to say it anyway: fuck you, you left your keys home.”

-“That’s true. By the way… can I ask you a favour? I need to take my things from the company flat and bring it to your place. I have to move out today.”

-“Oh.”

-“Yeah. I’m officially a homeless bum now. Well, an unemployed homeless bum to be exact. If that doesn’t get you hot and bothered...”

-“What… what happened?”

-“I quit.”

-“But… how… was that necessary?”- Steven can’t help but laugh at the dumbfounded look on Xabi’s face.

He steps closer towards Xabi and his fingers wrap themselves around his cold hand. He couldn’t look any more like a fool in love if he tried.

 –“I don’t need it; I can find another job no problem. Besides, I can always think of alternative ways to pay you for accommodation.”

Xabi can read between the lines just fine. He doesn’t need to hear anything else, having still not recovered properly from Steven’s previous rambling. This is enough and then some. This is Steven after all.  

-“OK, let’s go get your things then.”

-“Not yet, I want you to take your shot. Show me?”

_Click… click…_

~.~

_So I crawl back in to your open arms…_

_Yes I crawl back in to your open arms…_

_And I crawl back in to your open arms…_

_Yes I crawl back in to your open arms…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say???
> 
> Thank you for give this a chance, for your thoughts and for the little hearts (kudos you know?? :P ). This is for you after all, you and you ;)
> 
> And again, my beta is the reason of why this exists . Thanks to anonlytree for make the all thing just wonderful. 
> 
> Oh and this is the last song... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4svm2Hlkac4 wasn't hard to guess it...right??
> 
> Till the next time!!

**Author's Note:**

> “I wanna live life, never be cruel,  
> I wanna live life, be good to you.  
> I wanna fly, never come down,  
> And live my life,” is part of this song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYpwfbNFQXA


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